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Feb. 1st, 2011 @ 10:00 pm CHÉ CONFESSES

CHÉ CONFESSES

If they had only spoken of you in holier tones, but there was no sanctity in their inflections,
no blank stares, no empty eyes.

I never thought I'd pull the trigger
on an old man, but when his knees would not bend, I had to bend them for him. Old men are stubborn,

but the flesh complies, the blood obeys.
The young, they are easier to deal with; take a child, make him close his eyes, fill his hands with sweets,

and tell him who gave so generously.
Pups are so eager to please their masters.
It was a hectic year, everyone was issued a torn

parachute, on purpose, and there was no time to
think, only time to jump out of the plummeting wreck
that Bautista had made of our ship of state.

You don't know how it disgusted me to see these bourgeois clutching at their now worthless notes and crosses, like a Negro clutching for a needle and opiates,

which is why I made sure to bind and gag them before I put bullets in their brains! It was quite a productive day at the prison!

If they had only spoken with the gratitude of a starving child, I would have retaught them everything, these bitter clingers, these banana farmers,

these tobacco farmers, thinking they could own
things, when they could only be owned, these rope makers, killing themselves with the butt of my gun!

Copyright 2011 Bruce V. Bracken


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