Race war frozen in memory

black dogs cast out angles that make me scream inside

This gift of feeling love ends with a thousand

empty days made of silk

In their lives of long distress

 

The solace of choice, securely made

near the coastal shelf of abstract loneliness

Dancing to Shakespeare and his funky

verses about metaphysical loneness.

 

The calming mellowness of a poem

Those who stretched left the silver behind.

 

only homo sapiens look upwards in funless grief

 

The Unholy Trinity – the Idiot, the Idle,

The Illiterate pass the wall called Racism –

If only they would read…

 

Silken people playing cards with grandma

as we kiss and talk

about our heroes in red-blooded times.

 

The one-act play lady’s thousand days

are redolent of nylon skin’s darkest, silken blood.