Poem #2,567 | Routes North

Seeing Alan Kurdi’s body
[as it was] marked ends –
& my beginnings –
we all
had to show something –
in spite relatives raised a
fist against his family & a
right to flee
[they denied
routes north] –
I wrote in
devices
[not on] with my
pecking finger –
Love ran
out as Med surf rolled on
with tide-swollen bodies
marking highest points –
I avoided politics
[in taut
family gatherings] –
now
too much hate sat still at
dining tables –
they were
quick to sour all courses
with their easy racism –
a
crude Daily Mail as sweet