Could it be knitted in our jumpers?
or rather mechanically weaved through our rugs?
Is it coming out the factory chimneys
or in the street lamps that blind our eyes at night
maybe its in the blocks snagged in the pavement
or in the aura of the moon
Is it outside our window or in our lawn?
Maybe it’s in the kitchen in the cookie jar
Or maybe it’s rolled up in your cigges or rather in our lungs
One a penny two penny goes the rhyme
just like the rhyme of the little coins inside our pocket
Wouldn’t you think it’s in the history books
It doesn’t seem to be there, except if, it’s hiding in between the letters
Or maybe it’s trapped in a bottle of sparkling water
Maybe it’s pleated in your little girl’s plats
or written across your sons T-shirt
or rather at the bottom of your shoes?
It is in the beer we drink or lodged in our spine?
Maybe it’s wedged in between our teeth
or it’s invaded our heart
The answer is simple…
It’s always been growing inside our heart
whether we knew it or not
we are simple people
class politics is everything
in this life of ours!
By Elena Kokonova
this is one of my political poems. i hope you have enjoyed it.