First Born Sons
Abstract
It was a glib slide, a quick pass, a little lift at the corner of the mouth, an almost smile. It was a quick look, a glib remark about places to live, to be safe, away from this darkness. It was a little lift at the corner of the mouth, a glib smile, a quick pass over, no bloody cross at the door -- it was an invitation. It was a bloody smile, a little lift of the curtain, a glib pass of spittle that flew over in an arc, hang in the air and burst into colourful stories of contested land in faraway places.
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Published
2011-08-01
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