your poisons…

 

 

Sorry Lewis. Apologies Sacajawea, and Jefferson

And Hemings. Leave Dubois, Mott and Cisneros.

Turn over your keys Tubman, Scott, and Dylan.

America huckstered you Whitman and Ms. Simone.

 

And the purges are coming now, like a dark storm

One sees on a horizon of sea…plainly inescapable…

It will get much darker see. I promise you.

Do not burden me with your what’s fair and not so.

 

Do not bring me huddles of those what could not

Be bothered. Turn away with your tired and broken -

You bake open voice and flour mass with sorrows.

Deeper cuts with sisters; a bed with almost truth.

 

We despair how hard living is here…self-plague,

Self-famine and warring clans…this is my land.

This though will be that place of strict order. Lethal

Ideas will be washed away. Such a word will be

 

A slur, a blasphemy, an amphibious blemish. Yawn

…sirens heard out my sliding door warn not of what

Is coming but already settled in between the sheets.