Greta Sails into New York

Even if the kid could read, he can't, he wouldn't
Understand the story of the girl, maybe three
Years older, and her urge to save the world.
He sees it in a magazine he's picked up from
A bench outside a post office in one more
Shattered, sweaty town a day's drive from Kabinda.
AK resting in his arms, he sits. It's nice to sit
A while in shade as his commanders make
Decisions down the street, inside a bar.
The town square's filled with child soldiers,
Child miners from Katanga, prostitutes
And gold-toothed men, and chickens, goats.
Who knows, ebola? All of them just hope
To last a little while longer. None of them
Could tell you why. The children kill each other
In the forests on the edge of town, or die
While digging cobalite. The world warms,
This girl warns, but food must be put on
The table. White folks have such strange
Obsessions. Others do what they must do
If they intend to live.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 161 times
Written on 2019-08-31 at 01:58

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