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Jul/Aug 2001 Poetry

My View

by Svetlana Matic


 

My View

Shattered, bloody limbs
of abandoned corpses
drape gray brick avenues
mutated into graves
by lifeless children
transformed into heartless
murderers laughing
at a raped mother's death
while pouring salt
onto the sliced throat
of a boy who climbed
out the bathroom window
down the ladder of his burning
clay house as grenades
entertained the sky
revealing the camouflage
of a towering soldier standing
firmly at the bottom of the steps
holding a black match.

 

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