From Drury.edu
Survivor
I carry my rage like a dead fish,
limp and stinking in my arms.
I press it against my breast,
whisper to it,
I don't know: is it the smell of death
that makes them flee
or is it the fear
that my body's warmth
might bring rage back to life?
2 comments:
Thinking of what happened in these years does still enrage me.
We had Astiz in our hands. He could have met with an accident"Sorry he just fell out of the helicopter honest"
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