Picaroon Poetry - Issue #4 - September 2016

They are Voting in Lesbos
Antony Owen
I want to stay here in paradise and vote for bream and rice as
children shoot each other safely dying like pretend refugees. I
want to raise the runt that was tied to the leash of a mongrel
and walk it through the ferns and stare south to my homeland
and pray. I want to tell my nephew that his Mother and Father
were astronauts of water and live floating among the stars
that whales blow out to the sky. Oh my beautiful friends I have
had to vote for many things that would break your red little
ships and sink them in your chests. I have had to vote to
leave my daughter and place my faith in driftwood. I want to
stay here in paradise and watch my brothers boy dream and
tell him that sea monsters do not yell in Arabic to be saved. I
want to open this locket and tell my wife that the olives here
are bitter and how greek widows stand on towels to collect
them for the women. I want to vote for water tomorrow and
ask Jurgen why he wears a Leicester top when last year he
supported United. I want you to hear how children here pass a
football, my turn, your turn, my turn your turn, my turn, my turn
my turn, my turn.