Malaysian Air
How could
you do this to us, Bes,
Aiming your
guns high above Donetsk
In Shakhtarsk Raion by the River Mius?
Smells like spinelessness and flesh
Scald the throat with a Malasian Air
In Shakhtarsk Raion by the River Mius?
Smells like spinelessness and flesh
Scald the throat with a Malasian Air
Your nom de
guerre sums up your fire
Your aim is thirty
thousand feet in the sky
Shoes thump later
into ploughed troughs
While towels
float in puffs to sprawl
Upon the
sunflower fields of Rozsypne
No one takes
the blame, though voices
Of shock are
recorded and photos
From
satellites show blast scars
And children
of the village press fingers
Into the
tire pits of a Buk launcher
Come forward
cowardly Putin Russia
Raise your
true Olympic flag in the stadium
Of airspace
in Ukraine before us all
Under the
stranded limbs, and Kleenex
Whisps in
the trees of Hrabove
