“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless,
tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

Burning lighted thumbs into the sides of our cheeks, we stand,
huddled masses, at the trunk of our green lady’s feet, devouring all the golden lamps.
Here we eat from the grounds that produce only candy bar wrappers and
dead-eyed politicians- those wide-mouthed men that devour minds
and paste the muted remnants together to form
support for the removal of voice boxes and the creation of walls
to divide the oceans in half.
Search the assaulted rivers that line the cheeks of our friend, Humanity,
and you will find match-stems devoid of autumn color and robbed of penmanship.
They dragged the river and with masking tape and strawberry bubblegum,
they pasted us together- a giggling mess of molested mouths and broken teeth.

04/17/2004

Posted on 04/17/2004
Copyright © 2024 Gabrielle L Gervais