Internment

They come for one—
They come for all.

The tall men yell
To build a wall.
Searchlights glare—
Our faces small.

The moon, yellow
Beyond despair.
A page in history—
Crumpled in a ball.

Palms held tight
In prayer, beads
Print white—
Skins flare down the hall.

They come for one—
They come for all.

 

Published in Heavy Feather Review.

A Scattering of Koans That Are Not

Synonyms for Human, Corruption, Literacy