Tonight's Poet Corner: Green Flag
Green Flag
by Belinda Roddie
The green flag
whistling
on your doorstep,
coated in debris -
where the bricks crumbled
and the walls caved in
during Loma Prieta -
I left it there for
a little girl who stopped
breathing beneath the angry stones
that held her in a dry sarcophagus.
Very dry. It soaked up
potential tears.
You can take it now,
dust off the dust,
let it hang
from a banister, a quiet
staircase. There,
it can resemble grass
in your newly grown garden,
while the men in yellow hats
give the beat of rebirth
against your huddled doors.
by Belinda Roddie
The green flag
whistling
on your doorstep,
coated in debris -
where the bricks crumbled
and the walls caved in
during Loma Prieta -
I left it there for
a little girl who stopped
breathing beneath the angry stones
that held her in a dry sarcophagus.
Very dry. It soaked up
potential tears.
You can take it now,
dust off the dust,
let it hang
from a banister, a quiet
staircase. There,
it can resemble grass
in your newly grown garden,
while the men in yellow hats
give the beat of rebirth
against your huddled doors.
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