A breath falling into its empty fist again
By Peauladd Huy
1
Evidence has its way of
Pointing the finger. With that being said, sometimes, we have no one but
Ourselves to blame
For walking barefoot in that infected water.
I can’t say we weren’t fools, then again, we’d just come off
A road filled with ghosts still begging to be fed.
2
At the start of 1979, the Eastern Front
Comrades returned home, hiking through elephant grass
On the back of Vietnam, staking out prime ground
To plant their new state tree: flowers, a waxy
Old variety of the killer-red species, the same shape of
A bell calling right to the heart of hunger from its man-moving platform.
Anybody knows, any piece of shifting stance can only withstand so much
In this tropical climate, where storms
Come tearing down the earth like god-awful
Hands of a grief-stricken mother still
Plunging mudslide for all her taken babies.
3
Haven’t we seen this before?
Footprints before we even get there: meaning,
It doesn’t take a microscope to see you are just an old bunch of
Parasites, returning
Clutching your old sac of dirty
Red politics, promising a rainbow
From your colored sand jar. Pour and
Mix into another black rainbow?
*Black rainbow is borrowed from our two year old.
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