moths

when i found moths
hidden beneath my wardrobe,
i searched
endlessly
fearfully for holes
in the history book of folded clothes
only to see golden strands of
healed, stitched up
seams, like new
no
like they grew from swollen dreams

O.M.


bluebells

i remember you,
picking bluebells
like ripping shoe soles from their stem
and
stepping through them on perennial
pins and needles,
making folly of the spring
until the summer led you upwards
past the shrubs
and to the treetops
in
one
breath.

O.M.


pigeons

in the city i see forces,
prophetic tombs and
mountains of glass
i see pigeons,
they see me,
and they seem stronger
than me.

they are colour
wrapped in grey, they
see everyone and
say nothing, they
sit on spikes of human waste and
never mind
the smoky taste of fresh
end of days.

O.M.


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but you're free

pledge allegiance
love the land
pay for everything
and you’ll be free
but i am free
by simply being here
name another country that’s more free
what do you mean you don’t understand
probably because you’re not American
see he doesn’t get it he doesn’t know freedom
because he’s not from here
what are you doing to that flag
but we’re free
not our president
disgrace to the founding fathers
the racists and the oligarchs
if you don’t feel free you’re wrong

e. frozwell

 


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