Poems on Politics
What I Love
What I love you steal from me.
You take his lunchbox and bring me a bronze amulet.
You take his torso and bring me a folded flag.
You take his hands and give me the words hero and honor.
You take his legs and give me the word freedom.
What I love you bury.
Oh, open your hands, your bloody hands.
I want to return your trophies.
In the shoeboxes of my mind,
I keep the folded butterfly sheet for making a tent,
washcloths for scrubbing behind the ears,
and silkworms on mulberry leaves.
Open; open your bloody hands.
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:: Logo woodcut by Barbara Leventhal-Stern