Shadow playing

With bits of flesh

And rubble

Over the rumble

Of the artillery

Over the hissing

Of the drone

Over the flash

Of terror

And the paralysis

Of dread


Playing in the shadow

The sniper adjusts

The target in the cross-hairs

To make sure the word
smithereens is onomatopoeic


The walls hold the shadow

Of the fleeing millions

Just as the concrete

Trapped the outline

Of the girl of Hiroshima


Memento mori walls

To dust you shall return

No hard witness encased

To undermine the debunking

As no bunkers

Are ever safe

And the panzer

Strays in the countryside

Stuck in the mud

With no fuel


Pulled and yanked here and there

To fit patterns and designs

Of  game-makers of power

(and their geopolitical faithful

of all ilk and profession)

The truth mournfully lies in cosm-agony

no longer confiding in  a rescue
or a coup de grace.


Imola, Europe, 29 March 2022


Cover image: from Growing up creative  website