how should i protest?


and see — it’s growing dark. the west

has lost its shining sun; the stars

are thickly clouded, dim at best.


the cities burn, the dispossessed

give up their will, and all their hope

rests in the hands of those obsessed.


we are so small, and each attest

what cannot be denied: our loves

surpass the others’ loves, when pressed.


and all i ask are quiet nights of rest,

my arms around your solid body,

my head against your breathing chest.