p
o
e
m
s

I’m from the rare generation that didn’t go to war,

        but it’s still the inheritance.

Air raid sirens wail throughout the mall.

I think about you less on sunny days,

        though I’m just as full of the clichés

        we start with instead of an empty page.

But if this shelter collapses,

        we’ll move on to another one

        with free coffee and donuts for the meetings,

        wondering how does it feel to wake up

        in the house in which you’ll die?

 

I’m driven by a machine called protein.

I’m driven by a machine called hope,

        even if at times it’s like I’m talking to somebody

        who isn’t really there.

The dog might seem aggressive,

        but it mostly wants to play.

So go ahead and rock that boat

        lodged firmly on the shore.

You can call it peace if you want to.

I’ll stay here and build it broken

        with the saying instead of the said.

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O capacious room,
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poems

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