Gurgling

Gurgling in the belly.

The song of hunger,

the stain of war upon my chin.

Squinting into the sun,

buckled in the speeding car,

measuring life, smelling time.

Hunching over with feeble coughs,

sniffing, wheezing, hacking out

gobs of mucous, clots of blood.

Then falling through the darkness

I understand the relevance of God, for some.

Like falling through horror and gurgling.

World War III has begun. Most don’t realize it yet and those that do won’t admit it.

Action expresses priorities – Mahatma Gandhi

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