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

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: