by David Radavich
How can anyone sleep
knowing the poor suffer
like dogs?
Pills, potions, vital surgery
have vanished in bogus
insurance claims
refused yet again by
corporate apparatchiks
who know well
their own precarious hands.
Where will it end?
Schools close like eyelids
of saints twisting
in their final ecstasies.
Politicians are stick
figures for whom applause
greases palms
and limousines grow
long as Pinocchio’s nose.
Truth now is a refugee
homeless yet silent,
not even a tent
but a night of snow
and no blanket.
Someday a society
will emerge we cannot
recognize,
bodies will be
disinterred in unmarked
graves, no one will
admit guilt
and the gods of history
will almost laugh
at those who assume
time will heal
all wounds.
Blue night turns over
with no dawn.
David Radavich's poetry publications include Slain Species (Court Poetry Press, London), By the Way (Buttonwood Press, 1998), and Great Hits (Pudding House Press, 2000), as well as individual poems in anthologies and magazines. His plays have been performed across the U.S. and abroad, including five Off-Off-Broadway productions. He also enjoys writing essays on poetry, drama, and contemporary issues. His latest book is America Bound: An Epic for Our Time (Plain View Press, 2007).
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