Gaza is running out of gauze. Oppenheimer never knew the laws of deriving a human formula from wars. Dolls don't die, even if they lose a leg or an arm- bombs keep them safe, because that is a bomb's charm. Yet again, I find myself writing a poem in riddles. Excuse me please, this ear flew by in missiles.
SANTA and SATAN slide from the same jumble Notice how switching places don't leave us the same On and off, I wonder if underneath a people's rubble Why asks When whether Who now goes by another name.
This poem is not a revolution for a fertile imagination nor is it the lesser child of Yellow and Blue. And dear God, I hope not it becomes the peas of rejection that turns up in a litter or under the table too! What I wish it to be is the arrow that sets you free to leaf again if a turn is what you need to see.
Years start with Y- a forked road a choked load arms that wait to bind, liberate. At the end is S- a line that bends a sign that blends TO ROADS TWO NEW TWO ROADS TOO KNEW.
Dig dig one, dig dig two Empty hands are watches too Click click one, click click two Empty streets are faces too Make make one, make make two Bombed heads are stories too East West One. East, West, two. Retired Time can't work to say et tu?
In Physics, I mistook weight for mass One had Newton, the other had class I forgot gravity to gain and lose kilos and grams I dreamt of moons, landed loose by laws of damns Now, when my daughter repeats history and gets a cross Should I let her bear it or cheat history in a tick of toss?