Death Squads of North Valley

The death squads become jaded lies recycled
regurgitated like the Nazi death squads
synonymous commands
on the scalding tongue of my breath
from a remote voice
like burning midnight oil
whispering through pines like the scent of Japanese nuclear fallout
opening the window
to see the burning eyes
going blind while looking
the slow tourniquet
that forces her to speak revised versions
of neo-vigilant incantations of approved truth
stale lips bleed to contour fake outcomes
words like crushing stones on soft ears
kill her softly
plunging and wreaking dichotomous fallacies
mimed by smile and grief
the silent ghost answers in respite
truth will ascend the misery
as her convictions extinguish
the memories that capture
and rekindle defying moments
like shards of glass
on broken borders
illegitimizing feelings
that someone will crucify
with a right hand
held by a non-Christened judge
who executes commands
to silence the multitude
and push back progress
100 years
even for the non-manuevering white man.