Threshold of Liberty

When our eyes met
at the Panther rally
we knew we’d be lovers
for life: now in the narrow room
without that chant roaring
UNITY, we feel spurious,
perhaps we’re informers,
perhaps we’re junkies.
It’s a bleak neighborhood,
transient. In the street
voices of children keep score
with a cold mounting anger.
Tenants in other rooms argue
over the cost of wine or smoke.
We sit on the edge of the bed
and remind each other in whispers,
behind every door is the State.