No one loves us like the graveyards by Matt Duggan

I am not a silent poet

A dark heart has captured Ragga

where only petrol blood-pools span

the Euphrates river; lips were sealed

like stitches weaved from the soul,

truth would prevail beyond her death

as she celebrated Eid in her pyjamas;

No one loves us like the graveyards.

They do not watch the stars

Even though they stare deep into amber sky,

Bumping into each other

While walking the shopping aisles,

Not for any religious purpose

But for the drones and the missiles

Webbed in skylines of this Syrian circus,

No one loves us like the graveyards.

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