Poem of the Month
Nursery Rhyme for Big Brother

By Derek Webster

Published on November 6, 2015

Palace flags and shoot-to-kill orders,
cardboard tanks and well-lit borders,
dungeons and lice, grenades and books,
photos retouched and high-kicking boots,
bright deadly frogs, bureaucratic snails,
land-reform talks that never fail to fail,
gas in the mountains, e-coli in the food,
gold chocolate fountains and light sweet crude.

Do you dream of rending wrong from right?
Good luck, my darling, good luck and good night.

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Again.
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another child dying while

doing the unthinkable
eating food, going home,
eyes meeting impatient suspicion.

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Postscript(s)

The fall of ’47 I was 25 and still living in Viluta. What made me stay so long? What made me linger in that nothing place, that hamlet of ten houses?