By KJ Hannah Greenberg
Bits of flotsam, truly all manner of bunkum,
Surfacing after bonking around milder climes
Of emotional whoevers, pile near, build up,
Dangerously close to quiet neighborhoods.
Afterwards, such litter, those clotting gutters,
Those wee kittens seeking food, shelter, heat,
Learn harsher certainties, learn their origins’
Truth, realize animosity that destroys publics.
Supposedly, bristling branches, shoots bearing
Seedpods, leaves, occasionally buds, rain down
All manner of goodness, on cultures, universally.
Really, sudden storms precipitate Fajrs, Zelzals.
The wise gaum sunless days, with cloud-crowded
Skies, aren’t dreary darkness, but Heaven’s kisses,
Short breaks in the irrational, international sadism,
Aimed at the People of the Book, who abhor war.
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