Here are the key words in this diminished world—
Take your next breath,
take your last breath.
Roll the dice over the edge of a cliff
into tomorrow’s headlines.
The war turns children into orphans,
the war turns children into corpses,
the war turns children into statistics.
Children, it’s not a good time to play outside.
Not everyone is listening,
not everyone is learning,
not every human is humane.
This is an angry poem.
Anger is a shovel blade
striking buried skull and rib,
another mass grave.