In America
A child sitting on the edge of a cot
in the cell of a jailhouse;
his head droops into his folded arms,
the toes of his stocking feet
skimming the ground;
10 feet above his head is a slice of light
onto sky and barbed wire.
On someone’s sidewalk there are teddy bears
and candles, photographs and photographers.
In a hospice for dying children there is wailing,
there are caresses and prayer, hope
for an end to grievous pain.
Not in this cell, in this jailhouse
no candles, no caresses; a slice of light
onto sky and barbed wire.
SKETCHBOOK, 2009
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Considering “Empire” by Kaplan – The Day After
Warm, always warm
every day, warm
not hot, never hot, warm
everyday, warm
every night
A bird, not an eagle
dozes on a railing,
a suspended railing
in danger of melting
into the smoky milk
of a triumphal arch
while smaller beings
too new to remember cold
poke, scamp about
in yellow light,
and plot
PROTESTPOEMS.org, 2009; GUYANAJOURNAL.com, 2010
