DEDICATED TO DOMINIQUE SANDA, 1986

by Charles Carreon

In a world without chains,

I was bound by the rusty

               syllables

Of  my own heart,

            reciting its fears.

I saw the dedicated men,

At last, assassinate the old

            tyrant

As he walked with his aging

            yes men

In the scenic hills.

             I told them "God bless you,"

And tears filled my eyes.

            You ran, again, down

the hill from me.

            You are always running

in that brown coat,

gold curls tossing,
leaves crunching underfoot
until the last encounter.
 

March 23, 1986

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