TRIBULATION DAY

The rose gardens
of our childhood
suddenly disappeared
and the cold authorities
have taken sister away
books lie in carnage
on burnt fields
in a glitter of brown leaves
of hapless remembrance
only the old styles are back
a general in a devil cape
all in black hides
behind the engraved portraits
of my once light hearted family
who play bridge or charades
are bleeding by tree brambles
the nights seem lonely
busy doorways of bars
hear assassin's bullets whistle by
a grey van pulling up
and arresting a honeymoon couple
ships of exiles float by
baptized late at night
and a boy poet in the rain
wearing a laurel wreath
from the garden
stands by the wet feet of a sparrow
as faceless men in overcoats
try to drive over him.