1981

They came in like diseased eagles; mutated
forms of those they wore on their chest and
with the change once again in the weather,
the ZOMO swooped in to quell what was
‘wrong’, what would bring them down. They
run in the streets as well as the miners,
running for different reasons and different
aims. I look down, out my window and see
the army helmets littering the street like rats.
            Police.          Rats.
I could no longer see a difference. My father
went to work that morning. I clutch my doll
knowing the chance of seeing him again is
            Miniscule.   Poor.
There is no more cereal in the cupboard;
there is no more cereal in the shop; there is
no more shop. The ZOMO set it on fire when the word

                          Solidarity

appeared in the window.
“We are closing the border for the safety of the People”
            Incorrect.     Unjustified.
For the safety of You, the Elite.
“Nine killed in mine shooting”
Which side?
Only the ZOMO carry guns.
            Fascism.       Communism.
I could no longer see a difference

They took something out
of a Polski Fiat 126p.
They dragged it in
and plugged it in
while the neighbours' kids
gaped in wonder.

They went well into the night
watching Teleexpress
on the new colour TV in town.
Some kids got bored.
Went down to the playground.
Parents sat on their balconies
looking out for them.
But it was too dark.
They could not see them.
They could not see them.

Dogs scour the remains
of post-Communist streets.
I go to the shop
next to the post office.
Buy a snack.
Read a magazine.
Leave.

We go to the park.
Play some football.
Sit down on the bench.
We sing the Mazurek Dąbrowskiego
and watch the sun set
over grey apartments.

Run little Polish boy
Run in your field
Learn of your great land
And what it may yield
Learn little polish boy
Learn how to fight
Soon you will grow up
And protect what is right
Know little polish man
Know about freedom
Go to the foreign land
And do what must be done
Fight now you polish man
Fight for the cause
Even if you might die
They have freedom in their jaws

You fight for America
Right on freedom's side
You fight for what you believe in
As you risk your hide
You make friend with founding fathers
As you fight for their home
You construct an army fortress
To protect them as you roam
When the war is over
they give you riches when you go
But you spend it on freedom
That you've come to know
You give it to a founding father
To give up all his slaves
Then you get on the boat
And face Atlantic waves

Fight now you polish man
Fight for where you where born
Fight hard polish man
Charge at the bleeding horns
You die now old polish man
You can not fight no more
Dead is the polish man
With freedom in his core

This is a Tribute to Tadeusz Kouzico a polish war hero who fought in the American revolution