11.2 (Winter 2007)   The 2River View   AuthorsPoemsPDFPast Issues2River

William Jay

Nuit Blanche

The portrait of a man in electric blue,
a torso actually,

hangs there on the wall.
And further down

the depiction of an electric chair
done in pink, red and violet pastels.

Oh how the shadows cry.
The voices of the dead.

And turning now we realize too late
that we have passed through

an opened door
into a forgotten room

where no one ever sleeps
and no one ever leaves.

 

There Are No Heroes Here

for Cindy Sheehan

We are going nowhere now
in a house that has no doors or windows.

It is just a place to sleep.
There are no heroes here only mothers

and fathers calling out to children
who will never come home again.

But why try to speak of this?
It is like throwing ashes into the wind.

We are going nowhere now
in a house that has no doors or windows.

 

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