The lines of America.
People lined up in perfectly ordered
queues.
Waiting politely for their turn.
Not questioning.
Not wondering,
except for quietly in their minds.
Though they believe, they have faith,
they know one day
their turn will come.
This is America.
Then they’ll die
still believing in their chances.
And their politicians will hail them,
will praise them
for their upstanding characters
and humble natures
so even from their graves
they still support these structures,
having not raised hands . . .
the spoils that the privileged
prosper,
though the great downfall eventually
of their garrisoned luxuries.
– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
novamartinpoetry.com 