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Maxine Kauter

Remember 2003?
the year of three? Three tyrants thrusting their fists
into the air and crying
"war!"
spanning three continents and constructing a globe
three tyrants… plus one, makes four.

The southern sky as clear as glass
but most of summer
Our sky was an afterbirth
A thickening red placenta.
Vicious.
and our faces
Upturned and lit up…
"wow, the sky'
crimson with fire.

And a couple of years before
9-11
they had ash in their hair
and they had ash on their shoes,
well there's ash on our shoes too…
all the way to Sydney from our own
capital hill
from bali to the newcastle
where the sky refused to fall
and the forests turned to twigs
the trees… charred
black.
Black
Black on the ground
And in the sky… red.

Yes, and 300 dogged a bullet into
Bali and made the music light up
The sky, then died.

And a nation cried for lost football players,
While back in their home town a vision appeared
But there was no reprieve while
We fumbled for something to believe.

We took it as a sign
We thought, perhaps it was time.

After a summer so dry
The only option is fire.

The horizon became a haze and
As they hung on the line.
Our clothes all gathered smoke.
Choke,
Choking and gagging…
Rushing through the papers
Our eyes all glazed

3 plus one (of course) is four.

Alert and not alarmed,
But we are,
Alarmed and clinging to the sinews
Of our tenuous peace
waiting for the door knock
and opening our bags in the airport terminal
while a stranger rifles through our underwear
a violation endured
all to be safe
all to be free(?)

And we exchanged young men
Dressed as soldiers for barrels of wheat
Now sold cheap, with out tariff into
The united states
Ensuring we would always be a whore
To the big machine nobody's named
But everyone's seen

Black on the ground and
In the sky, red

We took to the streets
and the rain
So scarce, held limp beneath a brass sky,
The rain struggled not to fall

No blood for oil

Struggled hard not to cool young passion
After years of apathy spread thick

And the next day the papers had
Someone else to blame,
While a tyrant thousands of miles away
Twisted the media to do his bidding and
the wet faces of the dissenting became the
reason.
Yes,
It was we, who supported he.
Another lie. Another make believe cook off
Who can spin the best one and send us
All to hell

'why don't you want a war'
he asked me
and I thought it was obvious

Black on the ground
And in the sky, red.
An afterbirth

Never the same,
Again
The world, no, never the same
Or so they claim.
But a rumbling manna of dissent
Still brews and we feed on it here,
We do not believe
It is so much this way.
Never the same, no
Never the same, but not this way.

Remember y2k?

Never the same
No,
The world never the same.

And out in that house of white
Where a new tyrant has dwelt
And I can't help but think,
That all this
The towers
The falling
The warning
All this could be the most devastating protest
You'd never believe.

Off in the distance the lies
Are weaved
Right under our noses
The lies are weaved and simmering together
In an irresistible stew.

whew
I got a fridge magnet in the mail
And a book on how to
Turn on my friends
and a manual on vengeance…

But to no avail.

Three tyrants, plus one makes four.

I would hold your breath
Until the other shoe dropped
If I thought it would make the
Sky turn clear again.

What has the sky birthed?
Where is that child we lost
In the summer heat?

And back in our houses
We all talk for hours
Of fire and guns
And we marvel at bali
and say again, we knew some kid's name
and now its personal.

Three tyrants
Black black
Black on the ground
Plus one
And in the sky, red
Plus one makes four.