Liberal poetry: "bomb shelter"   i can't quite bring myself to move which is the problem with me i know and this society where am i going do i quite know yet all i know is that i'm not ready to pack Yet i'm not ready for such finality such perfect endings i want to cry because where do i go from here how do i fuse conviction with my ultimate laziness i wish i could grasp activism and use myself well but i hate policy and terms and conditions met and the world is so fucked up where does it all go & where is my place where poor/immigrants/people of color/ women/exploited/children/ the third world/the ghettos are lain out for sacrifice- slabs of meat as if life has a value for each of its children as if this reality/environment/attitude/market system is what dictates to the world is what is right when the grass withers and children die & parents labor all day for pocket change & customers are slighted in every way everyday & women are stripped and emptied i want to pack away these heartless Realities so easily just gather myself up off this bed and set aside some time begin to fold away the creases and neatly spread them out until they become so weak and thin that they evaporate and disappear like silk without the loaded history however they remain scattered in my room, in my worries in the city & world poured forth like the innards of this planet awful like the worst images we believe alien beings to be can't i pack these away can't i mend these so that we are sheltered, inside and out? by Lena Sze

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