the nuclear threat,
most often unspoken,
looming in the shadows,
the smell and the stink.
the aggressive thrust
of men long impotent,
of men whose gods
cant be touched or seen.
the hand that snatches the bowl
from the starving child,
that signs the foreclosure notice
on a family of five...
flexes and balls up,
one finger extended,
the finger that rests
on the button we fear!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem