The Freedom Caucus

. . . staring in

too mesmerized

to look away

from the gathering

behind the window

the stars surrendering

their watch to the late

rising moon to drifts

of moving shadows

shapes who could be women

appear among the men

against the oak panels

sipping from long stem glasses

priceless red wine

poured from dark bottles

laughing in the flickering

candlelight at what might

be a crude joke

assembling with others

in a widening circle

of conversation

you move closer

to the window forgetting

caution desperate

to hear what’s being said

and then

the waves

of words

like so many

confabulations

whisper

as sudden wind

rushing past

your ears

awash in

guarded secrets

receding then

swelling again

suggesting

to the apparent

arousal of everyone

celebrating

among the finery

that the earth

will not endure

that human life

was never sacred that

the only immutable truth

is power

you wonder if this can be right

frightened and cold

you move slowly

away from the glass

into the night

a familiar voice

silencing the others

a tall man you recognize

the face the hair

in the jaundiced air

eyes vacant as death

a mouth twisted by lust

his glass raised toasting

declaring indiscriminately

through the pane

now is the time

for anything . . .