(November 3, 1794 – June 12, 1878 / Boston)

In Three Minutes

In three minutes
a person you do not know will die:


There in that wretched earth
the shrills of women
dressed in an infinite death
break birds from the sky
as faceless husbands
become consummated by developed bullets
on the street
far away from the silk sea
shells steep the rubble of these bleeding times
smiles are rumbled from dark beards
with smoke and spikes
holy garments cry red
God is waved like a flag in the old playground
where rigid babies lay
with locked eyes staring up at eternity
babies dear God brown and black
boots heavy as old iron
crush sand and sandals with beaten feet
and slit the throat of an ancient culture
with a tie
asphyxiate traditions
with grinning ideas written in Teflon
and atomic bombs
blood in the stony wind
beneath the cut debris of homes and welcome mats
that rattle the night stars
and frighten mountains
a family fall as a family
as one
into the golden dirt interred
with the scorpions and snakes
in a time that time will forget
no doubt
the blood will run deep into the ocean
with the bones of our children.

a person you know
has just died.

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes ) 1

Other poems of ANAXAGOROU (4)

Comments (1)

Stole over him. Nice work.