Poems

Portrait Of A Country As A Tropical Flower
(Spattered With The Blood Of Its Own People)


by A J Kennedy

A lonely road, late at night,
Two tired men in a car.

The car pulls up –
A swinging light –
‘We know who you are…’

The scents are high, the night is rank,
Under the Manila moon.
The orchid bleeds its sweetest sap,
Its fragrant night perfume.