by Catherine Chandler
The dire catastrophe — the flood, the quake,
the hurricane — is hailed as breaking news;
but unreported wrecks — the hearts that break
more quietly, those worlds of Waterloos,
those galaxies of grief, of x’d-off days —
outnumber each spectacular kaboom!
that shocks and awes and tends to paraphrase
the terms of our unmentionable doom.
Our children, too, will one day come to know
that there are strings attached to happiness
and to the puppets in the puppet show;
that subtle shift in rapture when they’ll guess
at Something Out There which in time devours
the careful crust of uneventful hours.