And she will tell you—if you ask
about the man behind the mask
that he is ready—he is strong—
because you think that she was wrong
but I can see them both revolving
‘round a wall that keeps dissolving
Now a candle falls upon
the map that shows where lines were drawn
and here a chimney—there the stones—
a hearth for holding human bones.
I do not think that you will see
your way around the calumny—
One damn hour in utter silence
And another filled with violence
In the street where children play
stands a sea. We march today—
Bar the windows. Lock the door.
Lay her back onto the floor—
You may love your son and daughter
(even as you see them slaughter)
What he loves best is the sound
of her blood spilled on the ground—
P
