Dark Heart

 

Land of horror and hard stones, pretty twinkling

blood on clay. Two smooth reds. The sun barely

a witness:  the day’s first mutilation. A king’s ransom

 

in body parts. Mostly hands. Always black. Some so

small, small, small. What to do when the robbers come

with their own navy.    Too bad.     So sad.    No chance

 

of change even when the kings dies. Self rule. And the ruler

now has babies with tiny black hands. Machete and rape. It all works

as well, rips the flesh. From across the ocean, where babies

 

keep their fingers, keep their toes—what to do? The hard

sparkle of all that’s lost & diamonds are too happy. Ignore all

red/ignore twelve million dead. Just give us more. Give us

more—not ever pretty. Not ever please.

 

                           -----------Ann Tomer

 

Ann Tomer is a graduate of the University of Pittsburgh. Over the years, she has been a Poet-in-Residence at a local school and has co-authored two humor books.  Currently, she is compiling her first full-length book of poetry.

 

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content © - Ann Tomer

Music: © - H P Chourasia

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