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Share '02/10/2014 Poetry - Graham Marks http://www.marksworks.co.uk'
Playing amongst the jagged
of Granny’s garden, sharp bits of yesterday
make dangerous toys.
We find, half earth-hidden,
a gas mask,
the shattered, staring eyes not even winking
in the sun.
This grotesque soft skull draws us to it.
Such an evil thing with which to play
and make games of war
and silent, coughing clouds.
Putting this fetid thing to our faces
we pretend all the t…
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