Poem: “Against This Sleet”, notebooks, Jim Stallings

Against this sleet

Have you no hope?

Why the cower?

Why the limp?

Cripple in retreat

Even now as bombs burst—

Is this Earth

Not a green white Hell?

And you a subject,

A victim of random

Horrors dripping

Into frame after frame—

Your fear is justified—

You are a target

And your hiding place

Is only a flimsy hut

Against today’s attack.


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Filed under first thought, flash poetry, poetry, prose poetry, works in progress

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