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Letters To Leaders
VF (03/23/1971 / Bronx, NY)

Letters To Leaders

As we dragged our feet across her many moons,
spelling the names of people we knew
we stole the time, the place, the dream
and stood our ground around the stream
hoping to see salvation pass
so we could say we died with class
was there ever a reason to let it die
it would have to wait till winter's cry
when all our sins would hibernate
for seasons free to copulate
all the treasons we ignore
like the sands on the shore
or heavy drops of rain
and funny pain
we few
who remain
to see
the
change

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