statues in the square
some crackling dawn will see
them under overcast skies:
monuments to children;
despots.
stone vibrates like lingering cobwebs.
stone spitting stone words on
the ground.
so many words
buried between sentences
under tongues and in graves,
bearing the trimmed nails of oppression,
timeless and lacerating.
and i wait for the
enlightenment.
for the man and woman
to crawl
again in awkwardness and strip the
blood of infection,
bending laughter over -isms
while laughter
itself
becomes silent.