what the world’s warring
nations need
is a no-nonsense
mum
a modern mitochondrial matriarchal
eve
reminding us we’re all
quite closely
connected cousins
Play Nicely
she would command
treating us like
the tyrannical brats
that
we are
before we got
to fighting
she would sit us down
with a chocolate cake
in the shape
of our countries
united
You Want Borders?
she would ask
as she held out
a knife
for one of us
to grasp
One Cuts
The Other Chooses
envoi:
do it mum’s way
that way
nobody
loses
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