Saturday, October 07, 2006

The Scavenger’s Daughter Asks Raven If They Will Now Flee?

(on the passing of the Military Commission Act of 2006)


saline sunshine hard rippled burnished sand
cerulean azure aqua Tarfia winded bays
mornings bobbing alongside watchful prophetic whales
paella nights settling dreams towards Morocco days

beach boys moan soothing california girls
mottled mammoth waves venerate Venice boys
avocado salsa velveeta drenched organic chips with sprouts
black holed by supple mouths with eyes that believe
they see Hawaii like Brigadoon


sexy mirror glassed suave g-men
quietly stealing home from citizens in a foreign land.
swaggering a cowboy’s true colours finally
flying stripes like star-bellied criminals - on and off

for microphones biting sound into sense.
work-a-day men and women electrocuted by power
wand and strip pregnant women and toddlers.
undress the peaceful, take shoes from the newly shod
attempt to fling them sky-borne with clipped souls


my father’s consort and concubine
dragged from her home, stoned, holding
her head hoping higher justice returns
eternal rewards a soldier

accepts the point of his sword
hidden behind holly bushes. their winter promise
waxy tourmaline complimenting crimson,
colour stabs
nation’s heart. sleep.

sleep now.

her ample iron hips and slender top
sneer and beseech simultaneously.
raven turns his back. cocks his head. reads
the weathervane spinning atop the White Tower.

He caws. Only true decisive majesty
can hold him here. Her question swirling
like Thames mist conquering the space
between inner and outer curtain wall.
invisible footsteps on cobblestone.

Her body revolted, shivers the question again.

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