by David Feela
Moammar Gadhafi’s hitherto unseen
conscience has materialized
in the form of two Libyan jets
landing on the island of Malta.
A siege for a new century begins.
This time bullets rain from the rooftops
of Tripoli, and it’s not Maltese blood
that taints the Mediterranean’s blue.
This time it’s the soul’s hunger
that goes unfed, and nourishment
demands Gadhafi’s cornucopia
finally be emptied. It’s an odd
crusade, these knights of the Libyan
Air Force appearing over Malta
like falcons, requesting permission
to join the ranks of humanity.
David Feela's work has appeared in hundreds of regional and national publications. His first full length poetry book, The Home Atlas, is now available.
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