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cover art Poems from the Other Land by Ruth Mark
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T h e s e    D a y s

Time warps, slips away from
me these days. The clock
lies, it must; seems like five
minutes ago it was afternoon
the sun high and now it’s
8pm and darkness. My thoughts
wander, broken as glass shards,
impossible to pull together
make a coherent whole.
War and rumors of war
the only news on the T.V.
these days. Innocence gone
and bodies in bits under
Kings Cross Station. The world
is upside down. Trust,
true friendship: impossible
to find. We want to cocoon
but how safe are we
even in our own homes?


First appeared in The Naked Press, October 2005

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