Shadow Puppets Our doors kicked in to see what’s there. Sometimes bread,sometimes vodka,their rifles bobbingin makeshift chairs. Sometimes a sheeton the basement wall,our fingers dancing,shadow puppetsto a soldier’s flashlight. I did not have words,but I understoodwhen women leftfor another room. Mother refused.She held us closein her iron arms.I begged her to goand save us. She […]
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Elina Svitolina’s Tear
