Diego

The hammer song
that pounding of the mallets
in the forges and down the alleys
is indeed a form of music
a material melody played
to the tune of what we make
we too shall break

In a vulgar,
maybe even specious way
it is called mural making:

Diego, Diego
would you paint my portrait
will you place me inside
that jaguar suit
to repel Cortez’s son?

Today to grub means to eat
and roots come again
from real wood
I have seen your palette
of blood and iron
and received the one
and only call of revolution

The dispossessed
they cannot afford to go
and see your work
hanging in the galleries
so you tell Rockefeller
no, this cannot go there

The words of my acrylics
the streaks of my oils
will not be put to blandish
on the walls of some hall in Saratoga

Jeremy Nathan Marks is a writer, teacher and amateur photographer whose work has appeared in numerous places including Lake, The Blue Hour, DoveTales, Green Writers Press, Electric Windmill, Up the Staircase Quarterly and the Jewish Literary Journal. He recently was awarded an honorable mention in the 2015 Poetry London poetry contest and his poetry appeared in Nomadic Journal in December 2015. He lives with his wife and young daughter in London, Ontario.

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4 Responses to Diego

  1. Pingback: Thank you, Eunoia Review | The Sand County

  2. Alice Keys says:

    Wonderful. Keep at it. 🙂

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