Friday, February 11, 2011

my generation

You stacked stones with muscles and broad shoulders
until they buried you at forty-five
forgotten in some pauper's grave
your name never etched on marble domes
but your hopes spared new generations the same fate.

We packaged your promise in a bright package
and called it our birthright 
every new promise, a calling card
used for trading your denims and your cars
for cheap packages from  abroad 
rethreads, things called happy toys.

(C) rosaria williams
Febr. 2011


  1. every new promise, a calling card
    used for trading your denims and your cars

    Loved this

  2. called it our birthright

    how wrong we are to be so casual. i've learned this in time, and through your writing too.

    you are amazing me with where you travel and where you take me to.


  3. Amy and Erin: I was thinking of your generation when I wrote this, a generation that began to experience fast food and happy toys on a regular basis.
    You may think of other things that were traded.