Dina M Wilks
Writer
Resistance to the Hour of Power
Tick, tick, tick, tick, the seconds tick by like caliburs rotating in a loading gun . . . For hours, I am waiting, for days, going on years, I wait, because what else can I do? They have taken all of my power, to break me, like a beast.
I shall not be broken, shall not let them rip the very soul from within, tick, tick, tick.
I no longer respect my homeland, the standards that had made it great, taken, like the most precious of stones sometime in the night, while we were all sleeping in a stupor of apathy and self-indulgence.
Tick, tick, tick, tick, I listen as freedom slowly ticks away, second by second, to men of Napoleonic egoes, thinking they know best, forgetting one's forefather fortuned by bootlegging, another, working in a mail room.
Tick, tick, tick, day by day OUR greatness slips one more rung.
It tastes sour, almost bitter when I bite into it,
The juice filling my mouth
Not the way it was when we were kids
Sitting propped on a curb,
Feet resting in the silt as the gutter waters rushed over them
Everything was so much better then.
We used to worry that the salt wouldn't pour
From the minature blue container just like the big ones
We used to pretend we were that girl in the yellow dress, under the blue umbrella
Sometimes I wish we could go back,
When times were simpler and the lemons almost tasted sweet.
Eating Lemons
You look ridiculous in that hat,
The way you wear it tilted on your head,
And the color red, all wrong.
You never would let me wear that hat.
I didn't speak to you for a whole week.
It wasn't until Hermann our lizard died that you crossed the street.
You told me you were sorry,
And you offered to let me wear your cowboy hat.
I said I didn't want to,
that the hat looked ridiculous
And the color red, it was all wrong.
The Red Cowboy Hat
You locked me in the closet,
And the more I try to get out, the more you laugh
You got me this time,
But just remember, your clothes are in the closet, too!
Ambush
