There are children
dancing---on dead trees
who’s mothers
scream---out their names
who’s neighbor
worries new for their safety
On such great heights
Chanting her name, Dancing on dead trees
You called my bluff.

EconVergence

An eclectic pew collection
of middle age and 65+ discount participates
Where are the young? --Maybe tomorrow
hopefully tomorrow. Does it take on
average 30 years to shake off mainstream?
purge the lies and the easy life

We are looking for Bob now, "Where's Bob?"
One blindly questions from the open
mic.
"Does anyone go by the name Bob here?"

"My right breast does but I am
pretty sure that is not who you are
looking for."

Finding Bob we... "Welcome Bob!"

Woman I am begging you

On this side
there’s my son (he’s 19 and he’s got a sweetheart).
He likes to rest his arm on my shoulder, he has a dimple in his left cheek
and smiles with his eyes.
He wants to be a writer someday.
I found the air in my lungs and the fire under my ass--It blew me out of the fear that pervaded our country
after he disappeared

Now Pretend
On this side
Is me
A lot younger than you see me now. I use to be a looker
Back then.
I used to sleep like a flower waiting for the sun to come
and lay upon it

I am 73 now--My hair is thin and these aren’t my real teeth
but worst of all (this is not my real heart)
my heart has hardened
4 decades
These years later “I wake in damp sheets trembling, I hear the ghost of a voice cracking like a frozen lake…singing through the wall…singing in the kitchen.”
I imagine she would lift onto her toes standing at the counters
on her toes
the world came to her/she had better leverage this way

Now Pretend Behind me There’s One Big Husshhh
I can see it now
for what it was
but back then we trusted
them the elusive they
who fed us with the Ruffie of fear,
the fear of each other--our one saving grace…
(I heard her rape through those walls
I heard her fall)
So Today Woman
Please Don’t
let them cut out your tongue
woman Speak Up
from down on your knees
find the air in your lungs
hurry Woman
Before you there is Silence.
False teeth, thin hair, desperate dreams
4 decades ripped and torn
from your dress
Successful People cannot find poems, for you must kneel down and explore for them. In 1979, a woman from Lonquen was doing exactly that outside Santiago, turns out it was not only a poem she found but a mass grave.