ghosts of our language through thin blood lines, below mind and hearts a fence around hands, cut by denial, a genetic self hate, taught a form clearly for assimulation.
"imprisoned country so turbulant, clamouring... its not in the light its in the smoke, awakens... viscera of dust lest in its hands, rotten... rust exhaled by the dissapeared."
whos arm and arm now?
one tank of gas for a two hour drive, safe inside away modern textiles, four walled security in plastic, miles divide extremes of world free trade.
"and on the edges of eyelids there are ulcers of hunger... obsidian winds that sweep away, the haze... the red vapor of this massacre, dead eye... hummingbirds egg in aurora borealis."
its the children that play with skeletons, and a moon which can discern, all those tortured, by their terror, rust exhaled by the dissapeared, its the mothers with hands to foreheads, and a moon which can discern, widows scream, sheltering, our foreheads with their thin mouths, its a border that is suffocating, and a moon which can discern, let the heavens never again fall upon the earth, there is no one living in this country, and a moon which can discern, let the heavens never again fall upon the earth.
whos arm and arm now?