Leftover whispering

Leaving Block – Leftovers – September 2010

 

Frustration simmers

shapes a bright day

inadequate windbreak

neither shelters

nor allows

clean wind of passion.

 

Dear God

What happened to a person

Who calls a kalashnikov

“My Beauty”?

 

The sun rises

The sun sets

Projected power hunts reasons

Cannot sit still

Or feel the earth turn

Measuring time.

 

Rope clacks noisily on the flag post

Remember: dustbin lids

Clang in the night

Warning, Warning, trust lost.

 

When first the soldiers came

they were welcomed

Peacekeepers for better life

Then their own fear bloodied their hands

Hands caressed guns, fisted faces.

Taught us peace here

is only for the dead.

 

One night when the cat got locked out

It rained.

She fell into the neighbour’s newly dug

foundation ditch.

After she managed to cry loud enough, long enough,

I spent the rest of the night

crouched on the kitchen floor,

wielding the hairdryer.

 

Only remember my Irishness

When I am in America

A troubled zone

Irrational, religious.

Do I feel division in the air?

God almighty

Hone this social suffering no more.

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