
PRISONERS
The vowels are in solitary confinement
The consonants are being beaten
by sadistic dictionaries
policing the libraries and classrooms
Our words and our stories are being devastated,
swallowed whole
by the molecules of monopoly capital
While the protest sits in his ivory tower
Hunted by elephants wanting revenge
Our language is gutted
Our hands cut off
To hold mirrors
impossible
To make gang signals for love
an infraction against
the street walkers and day laborers of light
They stab our eyes
so that we cannot
flutter or flirt or cry
in silence or in each other’s hands
The dictionaries slice off our lips
preventing our kisses
They chop off our tongues
for good measure
Our bodies become
our words and our bibles
our nests and our wings
our fury and our tenderness
to ingest
the iron bars,
the steel walls,
the disorders of the border policing…
[By arnoldo garcía: [February 6, 2019]
Leave a Reply