What a Deaf Republic Chose Not to Hear

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They are shoved into the silence,

the one that speeds down the road,

bumps and rattles disguising muffled horrors:

handkerchiefs in mouths, gloved palms

over squeezed lips tight as a kiss.

These are the ones soldiers are told to ignore,

to turn their backs on- civilians, friends,

family- just listen to the chain of command,

follow through on their one and only duty.

There is only them and the next green man

in front, and the next, and the next, next..

forming one long unbroken wall

to stem the disease in front of them.

The doctors and nurses are dead,

and now they must wear the masks,

glove, gowns, the hazmat suits,

spray the disinfectant like Agent Orange

on everything that moves, eats, drinks, dreams.

The trucks in back are filled with those

surging to cross the border in front of them.

It could be Canada or Mexico, or just those

wanting to escape the land for the sea,

the ocean, to swim, sail in hopes of

finding their private island to populate.

The rich have bought their own countries,

separated themselves with a technological

continental drift that they do not share.

The middle class have marooned themselves

on the Great Pacific Garbage Patch

fighting for sustenance with gulls, crabs, sharks.

Only the poor are left— and them—

the green men who pledged loyalty

to the Constitution and now know

just the orange beast who tore it up

and rendered it to ashes, the Congress

inhabited with lawmakers with

hands over their eyes, fingers in ears,

and palms over their mouths, that

know the knowledge and meals

the beast provides only to them.

Freedom they know is not free.

It comes with the murder of those

who disagree, those disloyal to the beast.

The green men are fed on K-rations, MREs.

Their Bibles, Korans, Torahs, all

their sacred knowledge, has been burned

and doused with piss. They know they and

the poor are the shit of this deaf republic.

The green men hear the screams

in front and inside them.  They remember

when they fought for freedom and liberty,

or at least when it had meaning.  They dream

of the past, when America before the beast

was great again.  Their present eyes see

only themselves and the poor.  Those who sleep

in torn open air tents and live in cages

because the prisons overflow. They

close their eyes and they dream as

the poor surge forward to the border.

They are too tired to stop them.  Nor do

they want to. They only just want to rest

and wait for the call of the next American Revolution.

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