everyone you pass
in the streets
looks queasy.
In every compass- and rudder-
less city,
it seems
they have their reasons:
the months
of doubt and deceit
have been rough seas,
and too much
bad medicine
scored with a handshake
has been swallowed
too fast behind
back-alley addresses.
And yet, from the TV screens
none will confess
that the tempest
has exacted
the ultimate cost
and the brightest and best
will maintain
until death
that the ship can't be sinking
because the violins
aren't playing yet,
and all of the rats
are still
here among us.