I miss those ghosts

The absolute justice of choices         /    resurrection          the nestled      voice a tunnel   poison  in    the mule's town                                     a dramatic indication of what can be done

They said we'll never leave
They said this is our territory            

           As we sit in our own besieged ghetto         their prayer grows trivial   sterile    real      nice and quiet   and     solemn in the golden  heights  of our  bald alphabet      where     the    wall     reflects    the    image    of   the    wall     all      take a look around   ,  take  a   look around