Pop Quiz

A day comes
when an army of wisps,
ghosts in foul clothing,
rises from graves
marked and unmarked,
floats to the White House.

Suspended there, impervious
to attempts to dispel it,

the army chants as one voice:

you killed us.

The President
behind the curtain,
trembling,
tries to deafen himself.

Close your eyes
and tell me:

who is in the army?
Who is the President?

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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