Against brute force in the streets, I
align cutlery, china, books, pens, socks,
and shoes, as if symmetry in coffee mugs,
water glasses marching in formation,
and pottery tidy as a sonnet, could
make order from chaos beyond my walls.

If storm troopers invade, smash my
smug glassware, rip up folded linens, 
and upend easy chairs, making them 
uneasy, left alive I'll try again 
to save our world with a soup spoon.