The Lady Prophesizes Dark Days
Tired and poor,
our masses hid in corners
made America a grate
with warmth from other peoples’ useless breath.
The Lady lost her other words,
a ruler mangles meanings
staring after walls, there are no doors
but back break ditches dug and stakes
remaining high, we hefted lamps beside,
extinguished, realized that times were changing,
fearful for our crystal, our shop windows
hatched such tiny cracks, they’d grow with voices rumbling.
We hid our mats beneath our robes,
secretly we searched for Mecca, phones in hands
beseeching Suri, isn’t hers a Muslim name?
A home grown voice dissembled, we became beguiled.
We were tempest tossed, the light turned off,
the gold now flaking from our shores,
our boats were tugging back,
and smarter souls would take off running.
All that’s left, a lamp without its switch, dark times, they are a’coming.
Rose Aiello Morales has a birthday coming up where she will reach the ripe old age of 60 with all her faculties intact. She feels the time is well overdo to achieve the fame and fortune she is entitled to. Of course she is, seeing as how she’s been writing since she was seven years old (a poem published in the Booton, NJ Times of the US) Snce then notoriety has escape her. though she has been published in well recognized magazines such as The Stray Branch, Mad Swirl (contributing poet) and Red Fez, among others. You can fin d her books on Amazon.com (https://www.amazon.com/Rose-