May 22, 2019Colossal
Liberty Takes a Sick Day
Give me a moment of rest. I am tired of this stress position. My poor
arm trembles. Let me huddle in bed, catch my breath. The doctors say I’m free
to leave, but movement makes me wretch. I refuse to pretend that I’m not sore,
that I can’t sense my temperature rise. Tonight, I’ll let this fever toss me.
I’ll drop my lamp at last. Someone else can stand fast, hold open this damn door.
Liberty at the Bar
Give me your finest brandy. Scratch that—I’ll take whatever’s handy. Pour
me enough slugs of the stiff stuff to mute these untruths. Land of the free?
Home of the praise for barricades and bans, for guarded borders and shores.
Send me into senselessness. Line up the shots. Raise a toast! Drinks on me!
I’ll lift my glass to drown the pleas of the ghosts who still stand at my door.
The Huddled Masses Make Their Reply
Give us a break. We were never free.
We were one bad check from homelessness.
We braced ourselves, shored up against loss.
We crossed our hearts, prayed away the poor,
left our mark, smudge upon a glass door.
from #63 - Spring 2019