COMMANDER WEREWOLF
By Chris Faiers
Not naked and howling
like some id crazed poet
but battle equipped
for full moon missions
ninja hood hides your muzzle
cuffs, thick tape
weapons hang from your web belt
like tiny girls’ skulls
saline taste acquired in foreign lands
must now be slaked
you turn on those you’ve sworn
to serve and protect
the power lust of salt lick
lures you to the nightly hunt
neighbours are fair game now
you are our nightmare
Werewolf Commander
our new symbol incarnate
of a country becoming werewolf
following imperial orders
for Exxon, Shell, Rio , Uncle Sam
we turn on our own
under our dictator’s rule
Commander Werewolf
you serve Him well
your transformation mirrors
our pack’s regression
from peacekeepers
to cannibal headhunters
Werewolf Commander
you mark our future
with piss yellow and red drip stains
on Vimy, Passchendaele,
Chris Faiers received the inaugural Milton Acorn People’s Poetry Medal in 1987. This poem was written
to perpetuate Acorn’s anti-imperialist and progressive legacy. Faiers lives in Marmora , Ontario
No comments:
Post a Comment