Sunday, May 04, 2008

Sunday Poetry

Instructions To A War Tax Resister Sleeping

It’s tax time by the clock—
just after midnight. Upstairs
you dream of my step-mother,
the politician. So I am in the kitchen
piling ashes: I find recess in forms
bent into the envelope.

Alone with my flat pumpkin,
a bulge at the curb, heelfoot bare—
I revel in the numbers
I saw (behind all bombs lies
the patience of paper).

When you rise, come down,
you’ll see it there—put on
your glasses—the pre-printed envelope
lapses on the tabletop. And—be wary—
I am cinderful. We sleep together
at the heart of preparation.

by Alison Mandaville

from Poets Against War.

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1 Comments:

Blogger Marlys and Alison said...

Hey--fun to find my poem here! Glad you liked it.---Alison

11:33 PM  

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