The Invisible Demonstrator

   by David Chorlton

I’ve chosen today to demonstrate against the war
the way I chose yesterday
to do the same. So I set out walking early
with my dog on her leash and my eyes
turned toward the trees
where I count species of birds. Nobody knows
I do this to protest. When my neighbours pass
and wave, they have no way of knowing
the degree of opposition
I feel toward the government. When I go home
I wash the dishes to protest, and later
I sweep the floor, and later still prepare my lunch
of protest foods, followed by some time spent
watering the yard to state my opinion
that plants are right and war is wrong.
I’m not interested in compromise. I mean all plants
and all wars. When I clean the windows
it is to celebrate transparency
and bemoan the layers of deception
that constitute a presidential speech. When I make
the bed it is more for dreams than the body.
When I lay down to sleep I know I’ve done all
I can do for today to stop hostilities.
This is a free country, I can do the same tomorrow;
walk the dog, clean house, smooth the sheets,
and no guardsmen or police will stand
in my way. I’ll be polishing the furniture and slicing
bread for peace. I’m determined. There could
be thousands of me gathered in the streets like quiet fire
from which a peaceful light were spreading
but who would then be home boiling water
for tea? Who would ever take out the trash?