3rd Place
‘Jihadi Blackberries’ by Andy Brown
The four grey Herons were on the other side,
perched like praying pastors in a wild Western
bearing grave witness to the limitless bravery
given graciously by nature’s knowing nurture
my purple and black stained hands reminded
me of Broadbury Road police station where
fingerprints were taken, DNA swabbed, I was
given five hours of their questioning company
and in return I gratefully gave them nothing
walking by the river when I was first attracted,
beguiled by their unspoken promise, surprised
at their intensity of offering but realising that,
as ever, what was good and wished for just had
to turn bad and so it did, they did, again and again,
once more, insatiable, sermons of hate preached
inclusion and acceptance yet disguised misguided
messages wormed words for my digestive delight
how will I ever forget the cheap Sainsbury’s Basics Cottage
Pie that with four gulps of a can’t-let-you-damage-yourself
plastic spoon, sustenance received, interrogation resumed,
tape recorder droned on, on, always on, whirring supposed
Aristotelian logic I love the smell of Napalm in the morning!
pinned down by relentless barrage from frisky fresh fully
fundamentalist jihadi opponents who knew precisely how they
wanted me to respond to their assured assault, they showed me no
mercy, determined to lay succulent bodies on the line; suicide bomb
carnage, black flash, red tease, exploding groups of ten, collateral damage
tested, tasted, surrounded, from the air, by my feet, north to south, east to west
as riverside carnage unfolded a family of cyclists paid homage to my courage but
I would not be beaten and then it suddenly came to me, in a spurt of knowingness, a
crash of consciousness that posed the question to my inner self, it was so obvious that I
enjoyed eating those pleading blackberries but would that be the same for a racist, if so why?
I cannot wipe stains off me, they are always there, reminding me, may not be seen
but are always sensed, I know they are there by how you react; forever and a
day, final amen, to an inn of the sixth happiness; I am dead, my sins gone
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