Rachael Clyne

Silent faces keep appearing

They will not let me turn the page
or cross to the other side of the street.
I fold clean T-shirts, pack toothpaste,
tissues, but it will not stem this tide,
this razor-wire mentality.

No matter how fast I scroll down
the same child torsos, bare legs
keep washing up on a laptop shore

keep washing up on a laptop shore

keep washing up on a laptop shore.

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