Voices of Silence...of an absence in Jerusalem

The voices of silence
say it was an easy slaughter:
not even the grapevines
turned their heads away
in quiet dismay….
Skins, perturbed like sour cream
line the edges of the mind
aligned with beds asleep
across the horizon barren of shepards
and their sheep…
Young smiles run dry
and pave your homecoming shunning
thick embraces sodden in the sap of persuasion
where fattened promises drop like
brittle on their tongues
There of a past we no longer occupy
we stole the urgency in their eyes
and from the hip faked such loving
between slack breasts
they could not see the hate for coming
like missiles from birthing crotch
that shook the desert into frozen heat
turning anger into swarming plagues
and life into wet ash cursedly buried in bare feet
And we turn our backs in shame
Up against the executioner’s wall
… all tenderness hung out from the gallows
Fall as dead snakes wrapped in bougainvillea;
Fuchsia against the inevitable tongue in foreign drawl
And in the shadows of jerusalem
Voices of the slaughter
speak in the silence of tomorrow
steerless as gazes lost on a winter’s chill
tugging up at a defunct sun
and grapevines die for lack of love and innuendo.

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