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Poems By Victor Inzunza

Nov 24, 2009

The Part of Ourselves We're Afraid Of

I found the devil in a fist;
in the shadows
of the part of ourselves we're afraid of,
in a shadow we belong to.

He hides in whispered lies that taunt our
lonely eardrums;
in roads that lead to strange tongues.

He hides in the twitches on the tips of fingers
that dance
on the outskirts of a trigger.

He hides where the haze and the gunfire swell the fear
of the things that starve for blood.

He hides in a paranoid flicker on the horizon,
as the moonlight stains our skin,
and the visions of night reflect on our
sleep-deprived eyes.
We get an artillery shell symphony for a lullaby
and a nightmare for a good night's rest.
There's a price tag on my M-16.
There's a price tag on our lives.
There's a price tag on every breath.

Our chests are an Arlington graveyard;
where we bury the dead thing beneath the skin.

- Victor Inzunza
Published in 2009 Calliope

 

Nature's Forest Masterpiece

What artisan's nimble, weary fingers crafted
Your mammoth trunk and sky stretched branches
Beneath you like a subject
Brethren wood you are object
Opposed we split from the womb
Stolen children built my home
Reluctant to embrace I leave your throne
You embrace me as I retreat to my home


- Victor Inzunza

On Sierra Club website: http://www.sierraclub.org/education/LeConte/words/your_usa.asp

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