Platform
Platform made in haste
a few benches arranged
we sat he stood a paper flag
on his left hand and whispered
in fear I don’t have anything
to give you his teaming eyes
witness to our vain desires
to renew while his
ripped clothes yelled of our want
food for body or mind
his shoes with holes in each
cried to our need for resolve
and the old general with his
regalia shining bullets and
spent ordnance stayed behind
with a sardonic smile
Libros Libertad 