No fly zone.
Is my bedroom in war’s flight path?
Shhhhhhhhheeeeeeooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww…
Did a jet fighter just blow past my bedroom window carried by the dark breath of night?
Shhhhhhhhheeeeeeooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww…
I was in bed, wrapped in my doona, lost within turning book pages,
Swiiishhhhh, swiiiishhhh, swisshhhh…
I read about wartime England, nineteen forty one.
The night air attacks on Libya had just begun.
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