pick a day
where none of the wars
involve you
describe the sky
and the taste of the wind
do the hills spin slowly around
this piece of land you
call home?
are you in love?
there is a point
where these questions intersect
a place where your shadow is
as tall
as the man you actually are
and somewhere in the back of your mind
is a list of all the runaway girls
you knew in the summer
of butchered nuns
a list of all the reasons they gave
and now it’s ten years later
and still
no one has stopped running
it happens
anger is only another needle
waiting to be worshipped
the patron saint
of raped cheerleaders
is a myth
and these are not new rumors
and no one’s pain
is unique
no one’s future
is written
and still
it’s not that hard to guess
how badly the stories
of the disappeared
will end
