WAR Poem: Proof of War, by Scott Stewart

That itch in the middle of your back
you can’t reach. Your grandparents
waving goodbye. One two three four
I declare a genocide. Petrified,
I remove my head so that I can see
over the other side. I don’t trust
my neighbor. We are packed too close.
True war exists in the webbing,
the conduit running at all times.
Greed feeds into anger, flexes once full,
depants itself, insane in the street,
distress, destress, unstressed, colossal.
Curious how the bell still rings
rump pa pa pump. It’s coming
they say. It’s been coming forever.
Curious chaos on childrens’ chests.

Author: poetryfest

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