Façade of a Montreal God
photograph of Fascist HQ, Rome

I’ve stabbed a flag into the Fascist
March eye. You make the bullet
cry, you make the nation
sing. A sovereigned head on a coin,
the shallow inks of wings—align
to remind me: I’ve chosen again. In the city,
at the rally, they shout: he is strong,
il est fort. I find myself chanting along;
I can’t abort. Gods trapped
in a head—we are everything except free:
the azurite Italian, the glittering Mussolini—
orating and exhorting—mathematically
operatic—your head suspended
against the word repeating: si si si si

Copyright © by Kevan Copeland

This poem appeared previously on Monsters and Critics and Cosmoetica under the pseudonym Anthony Zanetti.