outside the bar
only soldiers there
at this late hour
Who stare and gape
in drunk amazement
at the missile bouncing
across the pavement
Soon to explode
and from its mesh
sear red-hot shrapnel
in to human flesh...
Friday Flash Fiction |
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PoetryThis is the section where fiction prose becomes something else. We still expect the poems to be short, though – sonnets, perhaps, or around that length at the very most. Archives
December 2019
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