Selected Poems
Grand Da
When the constables arrived in their motorcar
Grand da was cordial, greeted them at the walk.
They were all business. Grand da nodded and faked a smile.
He'd known, read the orange writing on the wall.
Grand da calmly returned, crossed his threshold to pack.
The city limits weren't all that far.
We had been run out of town before
thrown out of better places than this.
The black and tans had already taken his tongue
if he'd spoken up, they'd boxed his ears
and burn his house down, again.
Even a blind man smells when to speak.
We could walk away. We chose our friends well
and we always had family.
Our selves alone.
