Peace Killed A Few

Last night peace killed a few more.
The fire-engine-morning rushes
the red, and in the cinder and debris
a boy finds the toy he thought 
he has lost even before his birth.
His father places his hand on his shoulder,
opens the toy and opens the toy inside the toy,
and opens his mother crumpled cramped 
in the innermost compartment.
Peace never touched her in a good manner or bad.

 

 

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Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor

 

 

 

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