By Wayne Jackson 1950-1989
An allegiance we could make
slow walkers, people
who look up to see what time it is, those
of us who hold hands
at the movies, hummers, yard
rakers, a slow wonderful
war fought in silence without
them ever knowing
Mondays we’ll sleep late, we’ll
make a stand, giving the histories that happen
away to passing jets, to
rotating signs, and our heroes have walnut stained hands, have
buckeyes in their pockets, pocket watches
They will be whittlers of wood, of ivory soap
The orders come from inside the head
whispered remembered again and
again, refusing what happens elsewhere, grinning
at the dwarf spinning in the street
We’ll make our slow stand
on our front porch swings
Copyright © 1997 by Donald Wayne Jackson, All rights reserved
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