Tag: America
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The Parade of Polished Shoes
They polished the shoes and bent down to praise,they hung clever posters and learned all the plays.A drum got louder, a march found a beat,and neighbours began nodding in tidy, clean rows in the street. They offered neat answers with ribbons and bows,promised order, clean lists, and fewer of those.But maps made of rules leave…
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A Field Of Zebras
People kept gathering at the fence,not because anything unusual was happening,but because the horses were doingwhat horses always do;standing there, undeniable. Then the officials arrivedwith clipboards and confident smiles.They pointed at the herdand announced that the animalshad grown stripes overnight. A murmur went through the crowd.Someone laughed.Someone squinted.Someone said they’d been here yesterdayand the horses…
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Minneapolis Lullaby
(for a city trying to sleep) Hush now, Minneapolis,the night is cold and deep.The streets are filled with footstepswhen they ought to be asleep. A man was lost this morning,and questions fill the air;voices asking softlyfor truth that’s clear and fair. The winter wind is blowing,but people gather still,holding candles in the darknesson every frosted…
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ICE
Ice begins as a simple thing: a hardening of water, a pause in the world’s pulse. It slicks the roads, glazes the troughs, draws white lines across the morning. Children test it with their heels. Farmers curse it. The river wears it like a tight, bright mask. Ice is just weather, you tell yourself;a temporary…
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The Rise
(Inspired by, and to the tune of, The Day the Nazi Died by Chumbawamba) They said it couldn’t happen here,they said the threat had passed;that fascism was a relicin a history book at last. They told us we were safe now,that the danger had been slain,but the day we stopped believingwas the day it rose…
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The Ballad of the Vanishing Spine
They say the Capitol’s tremblinglike a fiddle in the rain,’cause the man in the big chair’s shoutingand the echoes rattle the pane.And the folks who swore to guard usjust smile and toe the line;you’d think they’d lost the ledgerwhere once they kept their spine. They check the polls at sunrise,run the numbers twice by noon,draft…
Weather In My Ribs 