By Les Wicks.
I have seen borders.
There have been those who pay no regard,
stride across them. One looked back at me
her contempt was breathtaking.
Have been so close
could smell the foreign herbs
understood unique problems of being over there
while watching embers of those emigres’ bright past.
My future was burnt as well —
important people played the tom-toms
the hungry just hummed.
To step over, shuck
your sacks of success or vacancy
of friends
& property.
There was a photo of me naked
another of my tears.
For a while humanity was a humiliation.
when I had nothing to do with me.
Growing up seems more about surrender
Convinced or convicted
one day I will step over.
