We keep our eyes on the prize

by Hassen Lorgat

the comrade was militant
always fresh like a daisy
yesterday the comrade crossed the floor
no one knows why s/he/they did it
but did it: indeed
as the COM always believed the picket line was sacred
maybe a poem
that says you are at past your sell-out date,
is being written

As for the many
We continue
Keeping our eyes on the prize