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“A poem can’t
carve a shroud
or build a grave
for an entire nation
impaled on the stake.
Azawad,
poetry has no cash value
to bring capital gains.
Poetry is awkward exhalation
wing, breath,
flashover butterfly
for emotion’s epileptic gasps
spanning storms waves flames
chaos anomie devastation.
Butterfly,
Azawad, your gaze must cut through your tears…”
― In the Net
carve a shroud
or build a grave
for an entire nation
impaled on the stake.
Azawad,
poetry has no cash value
to bring capital gains.
Poetry is awkward exhalation
wing, breath,
flashover butterfly
for emotion’s epileptic gasps
spanning storms waves flames
chaos anomie devastation.
Butterfly,
Azawad, your gaze must cut through your tears…”
― In the Net
