Poetry

The rubble was still rising 
after the direct hit. The 
private dens were in ruins. 
Salicin? Do you know the─ 
 
willow-bark? My father said, 
the spirit of the tree healed 
and removed the suffering 
and pain of man. 
 
Celebrating the cease of 
fire, death moves in a circle, 
seeking the truce between the─ 
cage free neighbours. 
 
Don’t pull out the tubers, the 
roots. The ancient souls─ 
live in them. The psyche, you 
will have to read off mute greens. 
 
Ask the questions. From the wounded 
earth, will be an electric response.