Bogdanivka When they planted their seeds, they sang,the gendarmes, but I could not understand.They salted the field with bullets,and the bullets screamed their agony,but I could not understand. They threwheavy fruits into the ravine, and coveredthem …  | By The Rising Phoenix Review on June 21, 2024 | Bogdanivka When they planted their seeds, they sang,
the gendarmes, but I could not understand.
They salted the field with bullets,
and the bullets screamed their agony,
but I could not understand. They threw
heavy fruits into the ravine, and covered
them with soil. The soil squirmed, and I
could not understand. Nothing grew
from this ground, the gendarmes laughed
and sang, their boots applauding on the dirt
road back to the camp, but I could not
understand." The old woman swept
her porch nervously, summer sweat
on her brow as she spoke, and I felt
the world turning around the ravine,
whirling feverishly like a windmill
on its spoke, lavender's heavy pall
filling my nostrils, and the bodies
huddled underground
in their still jumble of bones listened,
but I wept silently, said not word,
because I could not understand. By M. Benjamin Thorne M. Benjamin Thorne is an Associate Professor of Modern European History at Wingate University. Possessed of a lifelong love of history and poetry, he is interested in exploring the synergy between the two. His poems appear or are forthcoming in Topical Poetry, The New Verse News, The Savannah Literary Journal, and The Main Street Rag. He lives and sometimes sleeps in Charlotte, NC. | | | |
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