next to the toffee tree

A red crayon waxy, and messy,

Bought as part of a set in full color

For the coins that most people throw away

Into forgotten corners of clothing.

For home the line is drawn,

With the red crayon. 

The noon-day sun breaking in and out and around clouds, iluminates

The dusty air rsing from the stone floor – cut with red wax

Crooked: rising, falling, pushing this way and that,

The borthers draw a line to divide the concrete castle they live in. 

. 

Let us dance and watch, and play and watch, let us cry for peace –

On our side of the red line.

Let us battle and devour flesh, let us put the world right

For truly this line was drawn with a blood that shall never loose its voice.