Sredets by John Mackie

I am not a silent poet

so
clarity
at last;
away with conditionals
hedged round with
maybe
perhaps

you

running away from
the uncertainty of
bombs in the marketplace,
a place on a list of
possible
non-conformists,
the casual revenges of
puritans
in Kabul

be sure

come here
with fear
and we will shoot you
as dead as hope

under a bridge
in
Sredets

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