a negative image by Kevin W. Fuller

I don’t know blight,
or famine, I have not
tasted the sweet blisters
formed from napalm,
or seen true shock
and awe rain down
on my city. I yet
have not fled home
in real terror,
left my family behind,
myself but a naked child..
or had my child
torn from me,
my arms no shield
for a bouquet
bloomed from bullets,
I have heard
of leaflets announcing
Freedom falling,
, I imagine quiet,
as any dead
left to collect
these promise notes
in the crooks
of their elbows,
the dead palms
of their open hands…
letters from humanity
to none, even the living
who survive.

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