What Rough Beast | Poem for April 8, 2018

Dionne Custer Edwards
After War, The Peace Will Be Worse


After the bombs gather blood and treasure,
stew of limbs and howl, rhetoric unravels

in at least a dozen different languages.
The lengthening strife hollows out rock

and neighbor, buzz to brittle purr.
It took civil war to whittle down city

to bone. Collapse warm breath into exile,
unravel a trail of echoes and smoke.

It took bombs to scribble all kinds of sword
and chatter, all kinds of matter and gut punch.

What will we do with more rapid flash and spray,
more rubble and flame, more blow and ghosts?

Dionne Custer Edwards is a writer and educator working at The Wexner Center for the Arts. She created Pages, an art and writing program for high school students. She has a BA in English, Ohio State University and MA in Creative Writing and Arts Education, Antioch University. She lives in Columbus, Ohio.

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