She stares at the
Shifting, fuzzy image
Of her husband and
Tells him all the
Mundane but grounding
News about what’s going
On at home, the children
Take turns saying hello,
Too young to realize
What’s really going on.
She asks once again
When he’ll be home and
Gets the same answer.
They sign off with a
Kiss, fingers on
The screen, bit players
In the latest conflict
Lining the pockets of
The usual opportunists.
