What They
Say
Today
in my city
within in a
city
it is silent
but
sequined -
a sleeping,
dying body, - the
sun's
finger prodding
down -
even the
politicians
won't lie -
all born
from pain - God
and computers,
the cockroaches
think
we'll survive
and rats
just crave
peace -
one of us
is mad but
who's
to say who -
today
is a stone
imprint - I'll
press
my pain - bury it
in the knee's
soft cave or
banish it
to the back's
grey ocean -
so I can never
hurt,
even when I am
touched.
GJ Hart currently lives and works in London and has had work published in Isacoustic, Nine Muses Poetry, The Molotov Cocktail, The Jersey Devil Press, The Harpoon Review and others. He can be found arguing with himself over @gj_hart.
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