Whispering deserter

Jaia Papitz's picture

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Last night I deserted the war that was waged between

the entities

were left in the trenches they owned

and still demanding the title

I rolled under grass, into the meadows

where the ships were resting sideways, onto the corn and the wheat and the unsown

wreckage was becoming ahead of plain view

gun barrels filled, emptied into shouting chests

I rested, ostrich like

deaf and mute, blinded

I felt only the mud dirtying my sole.

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