Monday, January 26, 2009


The bird is dead.

Children exchange
accusations like stones.

No one is a liar.
Everyone is a liar.

Dust stings
the war-torn country
of my family.

Its anthem a screech.

Flags clapping in the wind.

Cutlery desolate.

And my heart
is a dry well all the live long day.

Originally published in xtant 2, 2002.


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