We’re coming
with the guillotine

dear Vladimir

to cut off the shoah
to take back the stolen

Restore the house,
museum, hospital,
power plant.

We had no choice

you like to say,
your face
a calm blank mask.

Mother Russia
gripped by your glittering
snake eyes.

How you love
to see critics fall
from a balcony.

Your war crimes
trials will make Nuremberg
look short.

And from Belarus
through Crimea
to the Kerch Strait,

Volodymyr’s people
will plant

About the Poem

In this poem, I fantasize about justice for Putin and Ukraine. Today is Christmas in that part of the world; Putin ignores his own cease-fire; the destruction and killing continue.

About the Author

Jacqueline Coleman-Fried is an emerging poet living in Tuckahoe, NY. Her work has appeared in The Orchards Poetry Journal, Pensive, Sparks of Calliope, and pacificREVIEW.

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