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One barred heater of the sun,
with a low kick blinds.
Puffer jacket clouds knit
pulled thread of the sky.

Mobility scooter storms overfill
mind’s topped up rivers, discharge
a sewerage of swear words
to float amongst despair’s furniture.

Cliche red says there’s always
a disaster at Christmas. Father’s
dressed in blood ring the wounds
in with fake broken glass eyes.

Cease fire words mean nothing
to the rising dead.

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Selected by Jay Dougherty

Published in Open Arts Forum on .

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Paul Brookes