Sunday Poetry: Leo Yankevich
No Flowers, No Doves
When we entered the burning city
charred corpses greeted us.
A child's hand dangled from a scorched tree
and the twisted wreckage of a bus
mocked the stillness of the sky.
Gunner gagged, Ski scratched his head,
neither understanding why
he had to liberate the dead.
Leo Yankevich
(This poem was published at War Poetry.)
When we entered the burning city
charred corpses greeted us.
A child's hand dangled from a scorched tree
and the twisted wreckage of a bus
mocked the stillness of the sky.
Gunner gagged, Ski scratched his head,
neither understanding why
he had to liberate the dead.
Leo Yankevich
(This poem was published at War Poetry.)
posted by Diane at 2:24 PM
3 Comments:
This is a really powerful and well-made poem. Leo Yankevich is one of my favorite poets. Thanks for posting it.
A great poem. Leo Yankevich is one of the best poets writing today.
Wow! This gave me a chill down my spine. Leo Yankevich is a great poet.
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