She's blushing
in all the right places
and I am like
a forgotten language
echoing in
a liquid cathedral.
for J.A. Kriel
Green like love,
we danced on shining waters,
and fired guns into the air.
We laughed sadness at the moon,
and spat out
pieces of heart and teeth
from constant gnashing.
"What else is a poor man to do?"
I pressed hard,
my face against the
blood-stained glass
of the sanctuary.
In dizzy attempt to
apprehend the rage
of war bellowing
outside paper-thin walls.
You looked at me with
revolution in your eyes;
and smiled like
a bombshell mother,
as I laid my head
upon your animated bosom
to sleep.
Silent.
Still.
Silence!
I woke to your
naked soul
and my heart pumped
what remained of reason to
erect a monument
to your mind
and form.
We danced mighty
and stomped on the floor.
We sang out passion
until our bodies wept,
and cried out
for the tired,
poor,
the huddled masses
yearning to breathe free.
We packed our things,
and sailed for a New World.
We loved,
and howled crimes
of ignorance
at our oppressors.
A mistake of fact?
Crime of Passion?
Self-defense?
The pillories were overflowing;
We chose the hole, again.
partly adapted from 'The New Colossus' by Emma Lazarus
