Trousers Of Internment Poem by Anthony Weir
Trousers Of Internment
Rating: ★5.0
My pants
covered in patches,
were rinsed by my wife -
but the suffering wouldn't wash out.
Like faded days
my pants hung on the Collective's door
on the rusty nail of Internment.
And the wind brought me from far-off the memory
of the unerasable face of poverty.
Sunday, July 9, 2006
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4/24/2024 7:42:45 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A powerful poem, masterfully crafted.