This poem came from reading the financial pages, where I first heard the phrases, “panic and euphoria” and “fiscal corsets.”
A panic, of course, is when the stock market drops dramatically because everyone is selling and trying to get out of their overpriced investments. Euphoria is the giddiness we feel when we get a windfall, or something unexpected happens, like the CDC tells us to take off our masks.
Fiscal corsets was a term used to describe the German Prime Minister Angela Merkel’s government’s oversight of every penny given out for an innovation fund, so that the process of funding new ideas was much slower than in other countries. It could also refer to the reluctance of our own government to help, in a timely way, those who have suffered financially from this most recent crisis, whether by losing their own home, or losing rents owed on their property, or losing an actual breadwinner or child-care-taker, or heaven forbid, a child.
I think it is interesting, that the stock market climbs and climbs and hardly stalls at all, just as the number of infections rise ever more precipitously.
As if our sickness were contributing, somehow, to our economy’s good fortune.
Sorry, to be the bearer of bad tidings again, but these past few weeks have brought little more than bad news. Delta, Afghanistan falling to the Taliban, etc.
Hope things are better in your neck of the woods.
Thanks for coming by to read.
From brief relief, we wake,
And teary-eyed, we peer at screens.
The world, again, has gone to Hell.
There lies no in-between
Of sort-of safety, nearly normal,
We’ve plunged back down that black abyss.
We’re locked in some dark attic.
Yet we pretend, defy the dread.
We clutch at straws, still hoping,
Though one more straw of this
Misfortune, and our backs are broken.
We wheeze and gasp, in fiscal corsets,
Strain, against our fate,
And wonder, can a hero save us?
Can a reprobate?
As stocks rise high and futures fall,
So we arise, in death:
Our panic and euphoria
Have taken our last breath.
Copyright 2021 Andrea LeDew