i am branded by an impression of sunlight, my city takes me dancing through the city of walls, they accuse me of being dark in their free city, they mutter death, and my shadow falls as evidence of sunlight., bandage up me eye with me own history, blind me to me own identity, nanny see-far woman of mountain dream fire-women struggle hopeful stream, i carving out me own identity, a healing star among the wounded a yellow sunrise to the dying, her father embarked at sunrise, strung out like bunting on a green-blue translucent sea, till gradually we too learned to be silent, he must have wondered which had been the better way to die., probably armed, possibly not, i see every round as it rips through his life- i see broad daylight on the other side, his bloody life in my bloody hands, some distant, sun-stunned, sand-smothered land, the world overflowing like a treasure chest, all my words flattened, rolled, turned into felt, leaned againt it like a wishbone, the dove pulled freely against the sky, your playground voice catching on the wind, all flesh is grass, fields which dont explode beneath the feet of running children in a nightmare heat, spools of suffering set out in ordered rows, the reader's eyeballs prick with tears between the bath and pre-lunch beers, pages smoothed and stroked and turned transparent with attention, see how easily they fall away with a sigh, turned into your skin,

poetry part 2

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