Killing Children

In his arms, a rabbit
Twitches like a time bomb.
In his eyes, unreason.
In the air, astriction.
I have trouble breathing.
Bosnians are herded,
Stalked by Serbs. Today’s dogs.
Worse behaved. Not a job.
History said, “It’s time.”
The rabbit looked like mine.

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About bsixsmith

I am a writer of stories and poems - published by Every Day Fiction, The London Journal of Fiction, 365 Tomorrows and Det Poetiske Bureau - and a columnist for Quillette, Areo and Bombs & Dollars.
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