3 Poems | Eric Allen Yankee

For the teachers

You sing for the children
when no one else will.

You cry for the wounded young
when no one else will.

You are the parents of ideas
when others tell the children,
“Your ideas don’t matter.”

You help your students cross the street
when others push them
in front of the corporate bus.

Your Union colors are on our hearts.
Your Union songs raise our freedom.
“Get up!
Get down!
Chicago is a Union town!”

 

Unity

I feel your essence
clasped around my neck
as if you were trying to ensure
that my ego dies tonight

But I still remember
who I am
as I carry my bottle of red blend
to the beach at dawn

 

Heroin, IL
-for my hometown

Have you ever seen
the heroin needle
bend down
like a weeping willow
as it searches
the cracked ground
for an entryway
to liquid heaven?

Gravestones in
Braidwood
reach up
like popsicle sticks
glued together
by children
who only wanted
glowing light.

————
Eric Allen Yankee is a member of the Revolutionary Poet’s Brigade of Chicago. His work appears in The People’s Tribune, CC+D, Crab fat, Ygdrasil, The Miscreant, Sweet Wolverine, Writing Raw, and Overthrowing Capitalism: Volume 2. He is co-editor in chief of Caravel.

 

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