The Date

 

 

 

 

Even when they had sewn up the deed,
the discarded hand-gloves of the surgeons
still lie about in testament.

Even the disquieting sounds
of the Executioner's iron boots
shall in time re-echo
the other side of forced silences.

Even their gate of power,
as pig-headed as a stubborn anus,
cannot eternally hold back flatulence.

And we wait, patiently, upon
the conscience of time,
the superintendent of all truths,
to pronounce judgement
on the plunderers of our heritage