Prosaic Law

…we are all Eichmanns now,
we were
all Eichmanns then.

/unwilling allocutioners
dissembling through store

brought frames

thick
glass enamel objects
wearing, tooth-combed & burnished

pride inured —
our shrugging way

openly furtive

bureaucratic ilk
consciously gamed: global mechanized
reach.

Into out from the tearless round
camera eye,
careerists on a one

win
or lose, removing char,

ossifying bodies of time
until dark.

Present typeface,
canard embossed twined arms

tattooing, née clawing,
in line–century night —

what shade,
or, as a lachrymose & lamplit

Evening leader unfolded bleets
– not Us, Who?

No, not now, put
“gone again to bed”.