Poetry

Reuters photo

By

Lianne Kamp

Commercial Break

Folded between a full page Suburban

Boston Home Show and a half page

Burberry add – forty-two beheaded police

were buried in a three inch wide by

four inch long black and white space –

sitting at my table I wonder would

forty-two heads fit in my kitchen and

how could you ever clean so much blood –

I see limbs on dead bodies without eyes

in a pile filling my living room while

somewhere in the Congo festers a

war that is so far removed from most

of us that we can choose to ignore it –

isolate it in some small part of our world

where we can’t hear the women wailing,

the children crying, or the hands wringing

as heads roll away from bodies –

we can imagine ourselves in a brand new

house where headless ghosts don’t exist,

where every energy efficient light is on and

we can safely stroll through all the rooms

swinging our new Burberry handbag

Lianne Kamp

I came to Boston many years ago to write poetry.  Although I never abandoned poetry altogether, life had different plans for me. I have rediscovered the importance of writing and over the last year have been published in a number of Prolific Press journals. Mainly, I write poetry to make my world more panoramic by watching it more closely.