Occupy Poetry


BY Jamie Cavanagh

0, unholy governance,
how you betray your lovers.

We scamper at the cliff's edge,
dance in ragged files.
We are the stooped,
not with anonymity
but with laughter.

America, your lovers die
with a taste of your lie on their lips.

I mix with my kind
when the traffic slows.
We slide around
the fringes of your fire.
We stand outside
your fences wrought of bribery.
0, unholy governance,
how you have grown the nettles.

We dodge your dogs and hammers.
We will not touch
your manufactured bait.
We will not buy
your faux-marble pieta.
We will not drink
the wine from your vile press.
America, your lovers bleed
where once your spoken promise hinted life.

We will not fall to our knees on command.
We will not eat your thin sacrament.
We find our day in the crevices.
We lose ourselves in each other's arms.
We are the inured,
not in surrender
but in play.



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