a tin sheriff

(More readable version)
 

He kept us there
imprisoned
after he constructed a facade
around the the sheriff's office

it was the tin veneer
of a general store
he sold permits and titles
to goods and lands
and other things
he wove whole cloth
from lies

we existed behind it
buried in the ruination of authority
forgotten in the former seat of power

one day
through the generous vegetables
of the south
(left at the sign i made requesting them)
i had enough material
to construct Him in effigy
George Washington

i set him loose
then hunted him down

he was a slow monster
but yet
a force
to reckon with

i struck his head from his body
and scooped his brains
of watermelon gravy
so it would preserve
thin in the sun

i went back to my tower
made of clay
terraced in yellow, green, and blue
the fantastic colors of the rainbow
against the red

i remembered the clay vessels
i had scuplted to the walls
red
splaying forth in splendid, feather-thin fountains

i would fill our love again

you came each day
to see if my fingers had awoken
to the clay
of our tower

So i closed the doors
and awaited you
knowing you would remember
what it meant

i sculpted the vessels anew
in preparation for the ritual of love
and the reclamation of the walls themselves
new colors, atop the old.

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About the Author

Hi. My name is Jeremy John. I'm a scifi writer and activist working to build a liberationist Christianity.

Right now, I'm writing a dystopian science fiction novel, and building a website that will connect farms and churches, mosques, and synagogues to buy fresh vegetables directly and distribute them on a sliding scale to those in need.

In 2003, I spent six months in prison for civil disobedience while working to close the School of the Americas, converting to Christianity while I was in the clink.

I'm always looking for dialogue, so kick in below in the comments, connect on Twitter or Facebook, or. . . Read More