The Political Poet Explains

Sweating through my clothes
in the distant face
of no imminent danger.

At least I’m bulletproof.
I’ve covered my vital organs 
in a thick layer of poems.

At least I’m buoyant if I fall in
cold water. I’m clutching
a chapbook that turns into a life raft.

At least I’m fireproof. I’m
surrounded by an impenetrable wall
of verse.  

At least I’m well-documented.
If I die, if my heart fails me
with all this stress, you’ll know

exactly who I was. 

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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