Tender are the graves of confederate generals and tender
are the graves of the great great great grandchildren of slaves.
Take away the thing that comes between us, take down the wall
take down that flag that put the gun in your heart
If the white dragon cannot speak poetry to hate
she embarrasses its friends, makes
its relatives think he’s crazy, send him back home
to mow his lawn. Give his children some ammunition
for their teenage rebellion. Make
his wife want to leave him, his buddies wish he would just
cut out early, the people at the job site, the office, the church,
school or industry wish he would quit, fail, drop out or convert
to a quietist sect of professional blood donors who simply live
so that others will not die.
If somebody kills me, I’ll be dead indefinitely. The white dragon
will see me go.
Dennis Formento lives in Slidell, Louisiana with his wife, artist and yoga teacher, Patricia Hart.
Formento is the author of Spirit Vessels (FootHills Publishing, 2018), Cineplex (Paper Press, 2014,) Looking for An Out Place (FootHills Publishing, 2010) and a couple handsful of chapbooks and broadsides.Since 2011 he has been organizing local readings in New Orleans and in Covington, Louisiana for 100,000 Poets for Change, a world-wide movement for peace, ecological sustainability, justice and cultural exchange.