Empire

From the parking lot, a view to the harbor.
The sign says: Veterans Enter Here.
A hoisted flag snaps for every shot fired.
For you, Empire. Don’t Walk Here
posted on a scapular of grass.
The bandshell benches painted lumpy blue.
Such innocence, I won’t chastise you.

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January 6, 2021

Someone told me you were seen
running behind that beast you’d bred,
Its hide bristling in flashes ahead,
and you, in the wake of stench,
didn’t mind the slaps of slaver.
Then you saw steps, the police.

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