R.A.D. Stainforth...another beautiful read...
I hate you for being red,
for
strutting your faux wings
like
a backwards goose ―
bow-legged wood underneath
an all-too-erect history,
wings
not wide enough
to
protect, or hide behind.
It
is time.
I
drag you, carpet-groove,
to
the front door, armrest down,
living
room monarch,
out
on the chopping block
like
Mary, Queen of Scots.
tk/November 2012
