Wednesday, March 05, 2008

In this, our last hour,

Before the snow melts
And the sun falls,

We will courageously march
Down your street

Waving our homemade signs,
Dancing and drumming out our song.

Screeching and wailing,
Growling our rebel yell.

They will cry for us.
They will throw their bodies

Into the sea
For us.

And you will play tunelessly
With fingers of quills and feather-bone.

You will lead them down into the waiting water,
Plucking your harpsichord and swinging your feet.

And I,
I will carry the children, the small dogs, the disabled.

I will carry them in my arms.
I will plunge their bodies under the surface

Until the screaming stops.

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