The Pogrom


Against no one in particular
The general anger aimed at anything
In sight twinkling of chrome
Ripened into action.

And David was alarmed at the alacrity
More than at the splintering glass
As he heard excited voices
In the chattering chill.

The skirt flew the seams wide open
As she jumped with her heart
Beating right over those men
Who caught her whole body.

And photographs were taken daily
Of the sartorial manner on display
Wondering who made the shirts
To look holier than thou.

Then when the masks were pulled off
The faces were glowing white
And the hairs were burning red
Like Beowolf in his prime.

And David said enough is enough
I know the parents of all of you
So pack up, go home and please
Don’t do this ever again.

 

Bevagna 15 9 2011