Construction Literary Magazine

Summer 2017

junta’s song

junta’s song
Photograph via Flickr by Denis De Mesmaeker


all day, the waiter’s voice stays in a radio phone
         they call her for a cup of coffee
         those whose

tongues twist when they try to recall their pain
                  —nobody listened when I said      I am afraid of a radio           that
          knows the voice of a soldier and prefers his songs

back at my village          it is the radio that tells of a president’s assassination
                                                          even herdsmen have learnt to carry it on
their shoulders      it is the only thing that can tell you where is safe or where to apply for
a job

when the bloods are saying yes, yes, yes
                             we all go back to our favourite things                   and pretend to
enjoy the junta’s song