wild apples

I want to burn your Ontario to the ground

the one built on fear
whether it’s coloured red or blue

I want exorcisms

I want them to stop aping the Republic

there are no proofs for what I say
except that your children are prisoners
walking home from school in despair

am I a child?
do I listen to the wind?

Is your heart like a small chestnut
stored by a squirrel in Queen’s Park?

je suis désolé

I see your leaders infected by the American disease

their lack of poetry assails me
my ears shattered
by blaming and avoidance and
their telltale speech errors

we live to sanctify the moment
accept that we’re part of
nature itself

simplify simplify

yet they want more
more security more procrastination

we need to resist to persevere

looking for wild apples in this grand orchard
under no one’s ownership

About Gesture Press

The poetry of Nicholas Power and his reviews of singular poems in a sequence titled Cadence.
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