Matthew J. Pesce


the glory banner refuses sleep.

soft snares assemble
new marchers in old boots.
a bizarre base blasts
young flowers in a
treachery of blood.

what star striped shroud is this?
who will eulogize their
victory over sin, their
victory over reason, their
those who cried to sleep ion
arms reach of their ambiguous crime.
whose mother’s tears and
heartbeats kept tempo with our
automatic murdering machines –