He has been slamming voice into a microphone
for twenty-seven minutes,
and the children have begun to wriggle
out of earshot, transported by their parents
into vestibules and out onto the street,
where streams of traffic cauterize
the silence chafed by astrological routine.
The very subject of his preaching,
a potential loss of power,
the many flowers along the median,
against the sidewalks, and in tandem
with other parallels.
One learns to genuflect, only to continue
rituals like this, slanted toward
subservience, that power
that feeds oncoming and increasing power.