ONLINE MAGAZINE MONTHLY      MARCH 2003      ISSN 1479-425X

MEGHAN L. QUINN
Six Poems

Pre-emptive Poems: Traitor?
I Spit On October
Blood On My Hands
Myths and the Serpent
Time Spent Here
Lasting Memory

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MEGHAN L. QUINN


Pre-emptive Poems: Traitor?


I.
traitor
 
shots sing bitter songs
amidst infant White House
grasses in our newborn
democratic hypocrisy
 
Jefferson sang no sweet lullaby
in that burst of blood and gunpowder,
that trial by error
 
somewhere centuries later
blood leaks from old wounds,
spittle from cracks in the earth 
and we've hardened amidst the rubble
of big business massacres
 
shed no tears
for dark-eyed, sand-skinned victims
of two dictators comparing their
inadequate missiles
 
martial law or subtle erosion
plays the same song
of failed revolution and two hundred
years of rule by rich-pale hands
 
and my banner of peace
is spit on
by someone hungry for global
Christian-Capitalist dominance
 
and when my blood spills
crimson on the sand
in defense of those dark people
no red-blooded American will cry
  
national military law says that I am a traitor
 
II.
whose blood
spilled on red sands or black earth
spilled with bullet or sanctions
spilled with lust or tears   
spilled in combat or in fear
matters more?
 
III.
"The right of the people"
has been sacrificed to fresh tears falling
on DNA rubble in the shadow
of something so infallible
that it crumbled
 
"The right of the people
to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects,"
have fluttered into the information age,
flooding through the wires of our discontent
for monitoring and the invisible hand
wakes its big green eye to focus
the police-state-spy-network
"against unreasonable searches and seizures"
 
And these rights of the people
"shall not be violated" without judicial
review and probably cause
 
but someone burned those pages
in the name of the homeland we stole.

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