by Shloka Shankar
Notes made at the start of our small civil war
Even the overgrown ruins of a house
can provide shelter, or the illusion of it.
The darkness eventually becomes a comfort.
Every window collapses inwards like a
blister pack containing no miracle cure.
Within the walls, the sorry heap of accessories
offers distraction for the confused, while outside,
people are turning – one by one – into dogs,
flinching with each petulant swipe of artillery fire.
In the resulting mêlée, we all become nations,
human flags looking for allies. But we are ecstatic.
Our bodies will finally make the evening news.
Robert Ford‘s poetry has appeared in print and online publications in the UK, US and elsewhere, including Under the Radar, Brittle Star, Dime Show Review, The Interpreter’s House and San Pedro River Review. More of his work can be found at https://wezzlehead.wordpress.com/
Shloka Shankar is a writer and visual artist from Bangalore, India. A Best of the Net nominee, her poems and artwork are forthcoming in talking about strawberries all of the time, NationalPoetryMonth.ca (AngelHousePress, 2020), Contemporary Haibun Online, Acorn, and Kissing Dynamite among others. Shloka is the founding editor of Sonic Boom, its imprint Yavanika Press, and Senior Editor at Human/Kind Journal.