Gabeba Baderoon
In the castle the statues stiffen
with perfection. Outside the stone walls,
the African immigrants hold out their hands
offering roses and good fortune.
The boy lays his small foot on marble,
light and eternal. The Madonna holds his head
on her lap. Outside, the gestures of the hands
are not aesthetic, are not silent.
At night, the stone wall keeps in its place,
and outside, the silence, the growing silence.
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