The Dark Days
by Justin Gross
 
 

It's the new vaudeville 
when the linimal eras 
knock fist and lances. 
misplaced are the dark days. 

the common kill was life – 
the important grew to obesity – 
the trade was to sweat and hands were 
calloused. Protcol and etiquette led to grace. 
Misplaced are the dark days. 

The singer of songs and the romantics 
Both shared cloaks instead of kisses 
The royal ladies were garbed in seven 
layers, barely able to breathe. Noble men in 
funny pants. Or better kneeing 
before God, king, and the knights. 
Misplaced are the dark days.

These old tongues are morphed 
by the written word. Mead, meat, 
and bread eaten by the grab-fulls, 
belt knives or carved oak utensils. 
To live for the work or be 
misplaced like the dark days. 
 
 
 

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