A Gangster’s Kiss

Have we acknowledged that the land we’re on
Was an indigenous stronghold, a site
Where someone was established, had the right
To call it home — to welcome each new dawn
With joyful prayers and local customs, drawn
From centuries of care — seized by the might
Of guns, disease, indifference, and spite,
No more concern for them than a brief yawn?

When I hear these bromides, my tongue goes slack,
And I can’t speak. Is it mere artifice,
Is it the truth, is it a gangster’s kiss?
So tell me now: are we giving it back,
Or mouthing empty phrases? There’s a track
Of bread crumbs from that lonely place to this.

More Unoriginal Rhymes

No one has made more unoriginal rhymes:
“When hot for certainties — or maybe hotter —
Who is the Pot, then, pray, and who the Potter?
Elect a criminal, you expect crimes,
Dead trees, emblems of deeds done in their climes
(Myrtles, cypress), the castle of the otter,
Glass beads better than any man’s fair daughter —
The best of times? It was the worst of times.

Life more than meat, and body more than raiment?
Sure, dats de charge. Write it in de blotter
And welcome back to you, sir, Mistah Kotter
(He dead). All these remarks are underlayment
From debtor Peter to ensure Paul’s payment”
He spoke. And drank rapidly a glass of water.

What Others Have Written

Not temperate, a tempest, the rough wind
That shakes the darling buds of May, no plum
Out of the tree of life, tongue of the dumb
Not singing, dreams beneath the tamarind
Now ended, summer buggered, bagged, and binned,
You are the bottom of the barrel, come
To play the fife and slowly bang the drum,
Commending yellow stockings. We have sinned,

So bless me now, with your fierce tears, I pray —
Or curse me with bell, book, and candle. Bless
Us every one, please, for we did not guess
That love would be so hard to master, grey
Would be our colour. I ask, What’d I say?
Tell me. I will not leave you comfortless.