THIRD WORLD GEOGRAPHY

A country without miracles

Sits heavy on the map
Thinking of banana trees rotting
In the sunlight.
The man who watches over it
Has commandeered all hopes
Placed them in a sack,
And tied its loose end.
He goes around carrying it
On his back.
When asked what is inside,
He say, “Just a handful of feathers.”
That’s how light the burden
Of government is in peace time-
Any tyrant can turn it into a metaphor.
You kneel on the parched earth
And pray for rice. Only the wind
Hears your useless words.
The country without miracles
Tries to get up from the page,
But the bold ink and sharp colors
Hold it down