Give us this day, our endless war.
In your closet, find duds to wear
to wage war. The earth longs for seed,
but is filled only with the dead.
The end of cold war means the hot
war resumes. There’s no time for thought.
How else employ the youthful poor?
Otherwise, population soars;
the rich grumble, stomp, and threaten
the government with extinction.
After all, what’s government for
but to make sure good money pours
upward, gravity overthrown.
The coup of 1981
still mutes the voice of poverty
gone underground to live for free
out of sight, out of mind. Rats thrive,
feeding on the dead. To survive,
sink to your knees and learn to pray
to see again the light of day.
(13 March 2014)
copyright 2014 by Floyce Alexander