Poem-A-Day: Day 48

Imperialist Mind

doing the imperial march
down memory lane,
high stepping,
and pushing things aside
like it makes a difference.

it’s a give and get nothing action,
shoving and taking whatever it takes
to get nothing done,
like the tell on a poker face,
some signal amplified by the speed of sound.

the black parade marches
through the square
until it reaches the lone protester;
an unflinching moment
that seems to never be erased.

it’s a piano tune,
caught like a casualty on the breath of the wind,
bleeding its music through the ears
of an army of none
left in shock and awe.