Take a fragile shell of base metal
Iron, or lead will do nicely for a first attempt
Then find somewhere to keep it
While the experiment progresses
Prop it against a shady frame
Darkened doorways work well, then
Seal it with the finest salt water
Washing repeatedly until all planes
Have been carefully soaked in brine
Set it aside to drip-dry on a doormat
Paying careful attention to placement
More progress is made in the hours
When darkness covers the sun’s curve
Applying topical heat at intervals
Until the surface shines with salt specks
Carve your initials into this skin
Making the cuts deep, clean, even
You should still be able to see them
A clear inscription In fifty years or so,
Once things have cooled to room temperature
Romantic
Revolution
History tells us
That coups are romantic
Tight breeches and open shirts
Flesh on display
But somehow historians
Seem to gloss over
The blood, guts and gore
Spilled as change rules the day
In marketplace, schoolroom
And under the blankets
The hard-headed, downtrodden
Protesters pray
For those seeking justice
Surrounded by forces
With too much to lose
To just give it away
