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Spring wafts up the smell of bus exhaust, of bread
and fried potatoes, tips green on the branches,
repeats old news: arrogance, ignorance, war.
A cinder-block wall shared by two houses
...
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This is the quintessential definition of literature. The woman does not spare us- not one single war-torn image is omitted. She wants us to cringe at the contrast and we do. I have net with many poets I had never read before on this site- -but she with this one single poem has outwritten all the rest.
A beautiful poem about daily drudgery of life. Loved it.
Both hostage to the happenstance of war! Thanks for sharing.
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7/30/2025 12:43:57 AM # 1.0.0
Powerful use of words. I especially like how certain words like kitchen, photograph, houses, bread, and branches are woven throughout the poem and keep appearing in various contexts like melodic riffs in a symphony.