We Dream of Rain I
We dream of rain
in a dry season
under the setting sun
We harvest bitter grains,
Embittered flesh.
Under a tyrannical son,
we dream of rain in a harsh summer of discontent.
We watch the harsh mistress of the empirical sun.
The seeding of the plains
a White House on desert sands.
Where a figure fighting the storms stands
in a black dress in a bone-white land.
The reapers machine burns on the horizon edge
The cold hard weight of a gun.
My spirit has fled, my wound had bled
We dwell in a madding season in some American empire…
Reprise I
Copyright © Poet Tellaferro | Year Posted 2021
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