Trumped

From the benches of the square around
The courthouse, from the barbers' chairs
And seats against the shampoo sinks
In beauty parlors, from the gun shops
And the corner bars, the old white
People smile again. They think
The future's been repealed. They'll
Soon retrieve their glory days,
They say, but, sadly, they are wrong.
In fact, like all the kids who graduate
And then go off to school, the future's
Gone and won't return, but hasn't
Been repealed.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 74 times
Written on 2016-11-14 at 13:26

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