Theme IV: Home, “Not Here Please”

By Olivia Roos


You can’t have our home

That’s what they say

But not aloud

That doesn’t fly

In polite society


Go back to the fires

Go back to the screams

Back to the rape

Back to the murder

Back to the graves


Dust to dust

It’s an end we all must accept

Perhaps you a little sooner


It’s not our obligation

To save you and take you

Into our neat little homes

That blood there

That crusts your hands

Like dirt on a naughty child


How you will dirty our lace

Muddy our parlors

Reek havoc on the tile floor

that I cleaned it last week


S’il vous plait, little boy

If you would so kindly

Get out.




Why don’t you get up?

Why don’t you listen?

Why is your head in the sand?

Why are your hands this pale?

Why is your chest so still?


Dust to Dust, he listened to us

And now the blood is on our hands.


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