Bob Johnson is enjoying unicorn dumplings

Unicorn Dumplings
we’re chasing a lovely ghost
through a shrapnel storm.
hurricane windsock tongues
& anarchist party favors
bellow revolution hymns
above an anxious orchestra
of red sirens, blue bruises
car fires and bone thumps.
freedom looks magical
painted in bloody screams.
head wound says social change
is like unicorn dumplings;
it doesn’t exist. it never has.
oh, thank you so much officer.
I’ve always wondered
how my nose would look
purple, staring up at me
from a dirty sidewalk.
zeal hopes next time will
be better. If we're lucky,
they’ll kill every one of us.

* Bob Johnson lives in Texas and writes “This is my first submission to IS&T. But, I have been enjoying the poetry and prose for awhile. I especially enjoyed Coffee Cup by Kelly Oziemblo, which I might have never had the joy of reading if you hadn't posted it. It is brilliant. Thanks for that.”

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