Poem of the Month
Radii

By Melissa Bull

Published on September 3, 2015

platonic / platinum

I could lick the hair of his arms to
smell the sunlight
but let the lilac air
wheel-speak our sympathies.

Late evening slanting through halfclosed lids.

bespoke / besotted

This morning I cut
through the baseball diamond.
I found a fractured robin’s egg

iris blue.

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The Jungle of Screaming Souls

On the Jungle of Screaming Souls,
helicopters dropped napalm bombs.
The battalion of men beneath
ran in every direction, on fire. 
Scattershot blasts, and one by one
machine guns cut them down
until there were only ten.

The Story of Bones

The archaeologist’s daughter grew up in tombs. She spent her early childhood crawling through the volcanic ash, which preserved time. Her father dug tunnels in the ground, uncovered death masks, stumbled upon bones of winged beasts, while her baby hands clutched the cold earth.

No Justice No Peace

Again.
Another bloody body 
another child dying while

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