Little Execution Poem
On peut tuer un homme
mais pas ses idées.*
— Thomas Sankara (1949-1987)
They lowered a bucket of mussels
down to my stomach
where a table had been set
with white cloth and a single candle.
My starred beret drank a glass of champagne
though it preferred water.
Whoever is afraid of silence
will never hear it.
I see night leaning on the sun.
I see a tree leaning on an axe.
*One can kill a man but not his ideas.about the author