Canary over the Barricade

With every resistance,

remember –

how everything was choked

back into your mouth

when you were a baby bird

and the barricades

were not yet burned.

When you,

with aching gaze

watch the Joan of Arc torches

purge their way

up the winding acres

of stolen wood;

call yourself to Dunsinane

and wait there.

Prick up your own feathers

and try to fly –

strip yourself of ash;

pretend that your fragility

is a stepping stone

to becoming a phoenix.

Inhale smoke

and watch the revolution

burn beneath your broken body,

your flightless bones

crushed to mothers’ milk,

countless choking coughs

coming up; down again.

Sing;

drown out the inevitable,

and choke;

with beautiful sounds

of death drawing acid

up your cartilage;

revolutionaries flee

the barricades, the fire,

whilst you beg

for what you have lost

to be choked back into you again.

2018