Democracia

Father was a tiger
Ground beneath the wheels
His fat was burned to light a torch

But there’s no liberty here
Only the ashes of  the village
That couldn’t evolve

Where ghost grandchildren play with ghost grandparents
And the parents are nowhere to be seen at all.

Where have they gone? Where have they gone?

A delay of a day for an idea, a delay of a lifetime
for the dead upon the ground.

Look, what remains-
This hut hasn’t the ambition of Ozymandias

These craters were once a rice field

This ox was no man’s enemy

And what we have left to say could explode any minute.