The Telephone is Silent
The telephone’s silent, as if murdered.
There’s no war on but they’re asking me to surrender.
I’m sure I could run uninjured
through the bullets, but I wouldn’t get any aid.
But what’s actually happening to me is a bit different—
I’m growing from the earth, dawn’s blood pours over my head.
I’ve been many things in this life: a fish pulled unwillingly from the sea,
a tree, a wind gust….but I’ve never yet been trampled grass
@ Anzhelina Polonskaya
