In not quite March

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By Mark Ellis —

basement hymns

 

In not quite March

the tanks rolled through the village Orlovsky in the Donetsk

the bombs were falling as they died

and children cried

in subaltern basements

frozen solid in layers of concrete

and dim yellow light

shoulder to shoulder we faced him down

his glowering presence with eyes of smelted tin

we waved a blue and yellow banner

and faced him down with hymns

sung brightly in the noon day sun

of hearts alive

in Jesus