Rotations - a poem

She worked for pennies on the dollar, and stood less than three feet tall,
her mother kept a hint of her spirit in her pillowcase, uncleaned,
resting comfortably upon the bed where it had lain for days on end.

Through the torturous taboo of what was done, the heavens quaked and locked
their gates, and hadn't permitted a soul in since, and the girl has been sheltered
along with others on the outside of heavenly gates, camped out on clouds an observer

of chaos that ensues on end. After a certain rain fall, flood waters washed upon
tsunami-like, until the ends of the earth were found, and water merged with water
and land masses every which place were dispersed and disappeared beneath

the forming matter of liquid life. Thus ended the tale of people, here one day bickering
about opinions, and demanding change, and so began the necessary cleansing of age
old conditions now polluted with remnants of human lunacy. As colossal mistakes

were swept under carpet as though they were dust mites needed to be hidden
from eyes of guests, and the song continued on, blown out of proportion from calls
of wild birds, who died from stress, diving suicidal into infinite ocean and being

consumed by smartest among us, fish. There came a time then, when some billions
of years passed, and what humans could make it, leaned over edges of cloud covers
and saw how mightily life created more humanoids, and a sense of hope came upon

them until they realized that they too were willing to let their daughters prostitute themselves
for the sake of voting a certain way, and the new people joined the old, and the Earth
was once again better for it.