1.07.2015

This War Moves Through

This War Moves Through


This time the war moves, through
like a raven in my head

I woke up one morning and the world wasn’t there
Bird of prey, fed fat on the energy of the wounded,
Grounded, outside my door
a Single gunshot ripped out, cut across two generations

This is why I never knew my father’s father –
A blind man, his best friend, last saw him

Alive. Hunting. The two of them. That day

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