Dead ends by Jackie Biggs

I am not a silent poet

Kids run around small tents

catching sunshine

among fluttering canvas

parents watch

their anxious knots

gathering tighter

beneath a belt

of razor wire

coiled and cold

one metal gate


locked in

locked out

shut up


in a cul de sac

where mulberry trees

make frames for

men to hang

their final protest

and the man with the cold heart

in the black suit

says: ‘Do not come here’.

While we struggle


to find words to say

this same story


in some different way.

Jackie Biggs.
poetry blog:

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