October 25, 2011

The street chokes with tear gas,
only there’s no mask on my belt,
nothing to do but clench your eyes
and hold your breath and hope
the wind shifts quickly.

Beside me, a rubber bullet clubs
Mike in the sternum.
He groans, his flag falls,
someone picks it up,
shouting “This is what
democracy looks like!
This is what democracy
looks like!” Wave on. Wave on.

Pop, pop, pop!
Familiar blind and boom
of flash bangs like
I threw in Basra, but
not everyone knows
to blink and brace.
Civvies stampede,
get away get away,
someone carries a mother
out of the smoke because
her wheelchair failed.
Tears keep pouring
down their faces.

I can’t stop staring at these
men with guns and armor, thinking
I thought this was supposed to be home.

I thought this was supposed to be home.

• Newest
• ‹ previous
• 47 of 384
• next ›
• Oldest