skip the production number with the willow trees
the part where the poets swallow fire
in order to be viable in the Roman circus
several generations later.
reroute all messages to the equator
that the sun may dry them up
and implicate no one, nothing
for we are not on the same page
in any district.
And really, why would we want to be
we are not in the first grade.
how shall I sing with a throat full of sparrows
when with the first breath
the jackals will destroy them.
how will I praise like Rilke the laments
when you have sent them all away
and everyone wears the same smile the same day
in favor of the ticker tape parades
the gentlemen hoisted on the shoulders of thieves.
leave this out.
and say that the bones mended.
that fortresses were upended.
say anything you like at all
to make the populace feel small
that propaganda may go on
even if poetry doesn't.
that there may be screaming instead of song
that there may be chaos again
so that God can find the heart to start over.
mary angela douglas 16 april 2020
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