Toppled by Patrick Williamson

Hide behind whitewashed

cracked walls, spew out

over broad streets shafting

between the solemn dives,

the imam’s cry, squares full

of assassinations, a thousand

crowd the pavements, brothers


hide in the peeling yards

recon ghosts of the buggers

who invest each dripping alley

shrouds of linen slanting

shadow across Syrian ochre


spotlight the heat where steps

stutter darkly through night,

take me away from that sea

of uplift faces, tighten the blindfold

cast me down, cast the first stone

the world is full of the depraved

they said.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s