". . and I'm trying
   to hold my stomach in."  
April Eiler
                            
THE FIVE DAYS AFTER ELECTION 2004

There is poison in the words in the rack
Shame for me in my proud nation's path
Black ink outlining stark murder facts:
Invasion, evasion, lies, danger, more lies.

If I read the paper I'm gonna die
  from the amputation of my pride of country
If those apartments turned up a television
  I would sleep and never wake from morbid dreams,
    what substitutes now for reality.
 
If I catch my toe in a crack
 sprawl on the concrete and rock of the station
  pull bleeding gravel from my palm
   squeeze like a life-line a twisted ankle

I come back to my circumsance,
 I come back to my pain
  and the cloud of moments that surround it,
   the testimony of things around me.

I note the cement sculpture
 carrying hearts from Street San Antonio to Alma,
  minds scurrying along from Town Atherton to Gilroy

I hear the singing of the rainbow
 clinging like a kiss to the rush hour Bezier
  above the soil where my feet fall.

 The dirt still feeds this pepper tree.
 The pepper tree still is a dancing green
 The rhythm is the transient rain.