We Have Done Our Best to Break Mother


M A T T    D U G G A N


Watching the rain on a slant
like a cat -staring through glass
awaiting that moment of release;

where we grew into our chains
– & each one chronicled
the breakdown in four parts;

If we held shadows far from us
in our minds curled up
like children we once were.

When spiked trees danced
threw ghosts into burial clouds –
the wind inside uncertain skies
became a sculptor of our hell & fantasy.

We have done are best to break mother
filled her sea with blood & oils
scattered the residue of plastic containers
along her shoreline in triplets & two’s.




Finding myself quarantined dividing energy between bouts of twitching legs feverish sweats of Anxomnia. I dream of feeling the sun taking a breath of our first incubated summer. What it must feel like to smell spring? bright flowers the open bloom. Expectations are now of a high birth rate. Men dressed in pyjamas wear surgical masks & glue toilet tissue to both hands – exhausting their frantic play stations. Incarcerated with one million home comforts – television repeats of old sit-coms; we see only a shortage in toilet rolls but not contraceptives. We twiddle our fingers play with our foreskins; wait for a cure to our anxiogenic future.






They hide in gun boots & at mountain retreats
deniers of gas chambers seekers of spears
through repetitive war we didn’t see four horses
tied to the devil’s red knee cap;
glossed over by a world without any ears.
Cracks in the smashed glass
amended spectacle frames
readers who deliberately couldn’t see;
Holy warrior harbinger of hate
destroyer of artefact and true faith;
making large cracks in grass & sand
broken arm of division
widens the shrinking mouth
as they are boarding up the synagogues again.








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