There and Back

One irony of all that imparted newness
I thought I had gained from is its ancient origination,
The rote of a classroom relict and his one insistence –
That the method for change is the remorseless
Permeation into the everyday, as a dye on its stratifications.
News is, the soldiers in our camp aren’t properly
Uniformed or shod. They sit prissily, polishing their arms.
Not noticed until too late are the reversals contoured
On our map, the map’s changing strategic lines,
As an enemy astute bureaucratically has adopted our practice
(Why yes, it has), but mirrored, with accumulations of its own.
Result, the only permeation is this masquerade,
This show of national unity, where deals are done
Privately, sealed in the silk camouflage
Of unrecorded handshakes, under an outflow
Into everything of white-hot light, the colour
Of heated glass.

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