William D. Sherman
Santiago
Sleep . . Sleep..
See the face of death
& scream
He floats above, smiling
in top hat & coat
Ringmaster
of the prison where we are
“& who is that third” lag
Passes the large crumbling joint
I hide in my pocket
The Mole and I had been comparing crossed-out lines
as the uniformed ones enter
Three beautiful women the leader brought to our cell
Mine was Asian, had green nails,
I love you I said
as she descended almost into me
But her eyes were Mr. Burroughs
& yet I loved her anyway.
She wanted to respond.
She had to work for our inquisitors.
Green her nails.
Green the electric switch
Killing all that fly
Let’s away to Santiago
To place a wreath
On the grave of Victor Jara.
in memoriam: Ewan MacColl
Page(s) 145
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