The Cold War is over
why aren’t we having fun
I have destroyed my internal Timex
kicked an innocent dog
stiffed four ratty beggars
my team has triumphed over
the incarnation of wickedness
I etch acrid sarcasm
on a child’s mind
can I pull a poem from shrapnel
fashion words of beauty
from shrill shrieks of falling bombs
submerge the laments of those
with investments
in times of need
the living need a poem

This poem originally featured in Split This Rock.

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