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Douglas Tanoury Bronze Horseman Ever since childhood, I could never Pass you without giving a look, An old war hero on a horse, hat Pulled low over your eyes, saber Dangling at your side, not a Typical equestrian frozen in some Triumphant pose, but looking sleepy And slow, slouching slightly in the Saddle, tired like a real man, Tired of the cars whistling past like Artillery fire, brakes screeching like Rebel war cries. No one stops in the middle of the Intersection to read your name on The granite monument; no one knows What you've done, the sacrifice you've Made, no one cares; will you sit Forever, staring down at lesser men, Their petty squabbles about right of way And dented fenders? Will you remain unmoved, transfixed as The dead you've looked on scattered across The battlefield? Come on, spur your mount, Let's see you ride, turn the heads of the Picnickers with the clapping of brazen hoofs Slapping the asphalt. Fly across the bridge, Slapping your horse with your hat, Speed off this island. Feel the sun, the wind flowing through your Hair as you ride, come on, let's hear a real Yankee "WHOOP!" and hear your saber growl as It's pulled from its sheath; come alive with Rage like Pushkin's statue of Peter The Great, Ride, ride like a madman down East Grand Boulevard, past the rows of Victorian Mansions With old white-haired men sitting on porches, Bellowing from your belly: "WHOOP! WHOOP!" Down the streets lined with boarded-up factories, Bars and auto parts stores, stomp some common Folks, cut some non-combatants down, make that Old saber sing, General, then they'll know your name; You've got to kill some civilians to be remembered. Want to respond to this poem? Do it here! Want to respond to this poem? Do it here! Return to Detroit Poems |
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