From the Rooms of the Prom Queen by Joseph Mayo Wristen

I was there with the young men who danced to OZ.
I filled the room with
my expectations,
creamed the walls with my visions
while applauding their rebelliousness.

They would watch me
as I walked
through the door
with my lovely whore
by my side.
They would follow me home.

It did not bother me
that they knew where I lived
or that they knew how I made my living.

It did not seem to bother them.
And I believe they
loved me.

I had always felt
that they would be there
when the time for the rebellion
arrived.
And so I showed them
the same respect I would have shown
any other soldier.

Now lying there with their disease
on white bed sheets under
a red cross,
they are being killed
by a society
that could never have understood their dreams.
Somehow
the secret of their crucifixion
was kept from us,
and a great army
was never given the chance to have their war.

by Joseph Mayo Wristen

Other poems by 'Joseph Mayo Wristen'

Thinking of You

Falling Water

Valentine

my pledge to you

Voices in the Night

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The Teacher Speaks to a Crowd in New Jersey

An Epithet for the Dead Poet

magic to change the world

A Spirit Shows me the Year 2332

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