in the brains of a ceramic head

abraham lincoln lives
with my in-laws
behind glass

watching them as if
they were an exhibit
on the joys of marriage
and true love

i think, he speaks to them
in a craggy voice
when they sleep
about the dangers of civil war

about blood and hope
the agony of unwanted death
and the hardest parts
of a broken family

all the things
they can't know
from experience.

I watch them hold hands
and speak in lovers tones
when the moments are tense

there are no battles
only negotiations

lincoln seems to proud
that his subliminal messages
work so well...

but i have a secret
i never tell him

they new his wisdom
long before he moved in.