The country of his dreams was bright and flat
He was a thin blue line that held a square
so that it could not move. He did not care
or listen to its pleas. He simply sat

all through his dream, doing as he’d been told,
and then woke up, was cheerful the next day
and if you asked him, he would smile and say
order and orders are my life. I hold

society together. It’s quite dull
We’re needed. Anarchists would tear things down
rape police dogs, scrawl graffiti, burn the town
The uniform means that I sometimes pull.

Most days he’s kind to children and old dears.
Sometimes he frowns, and someone disappears.


About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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