why nICHt?
Literary Magazine
April, 2018
Amaranthine Penhaligon’s Large
hit the floor
Fuse the white white flower apelsitzo
with the red rosy-dosy, red gvastika

In the staja, all I dream at my goobas
is chai, kleb and eggiwegs
yet the Charlie speaks forgiveness
my glazzies pried open despite begs
Appypolly loggies and malivkas

And the great Bog
may keep my dusha
for my eemya’s nagoy in the gazetta
But why are some above the law,
And your faithful narrator less than a dog?

And who could condense
that your humble civil savant
robbed of his svaboda volly
would be the target of all taunt
all because of a little ultraviolence…?

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