The Golden Voice
by RJ Hoffman
A voice recorded, stored alive
cackles to coffins
and creaking cauldrons,
with lines that break into dust
Ghost personifications buried,
so many lumps on a hill
a row for each generation
back to back and side by side
pointing the finger,
asserting direction
with hairy knuckled shiny diamonds
wagging wealthy, educated philanthropy
weaned and whining
I want you
I need you
come fight for me!