Another Dirty War When I look at cellophane across this man’s bloodied mouth, nose, his grimace shrink-wrapped-- I can’t breathe. How had it come to this? What a price for speaking out. What woe surely we will never know. Breathe. A Dirty War, the people whispered openly. A life sentence repression choke-holding. But suffocate another? Stab them? A spider web, yes. In the late-seventies Argentine opponents lost their children— innocents scooped up for adoption by a country’s barren nobility. Where were you when it ended, in ’83? My baby, just two then. I feel undone. Inhale. What could I have done? Thirty-plus years taken from mothers, widows. Never again. A dirty era long ago. A time so foreign. We speak out, speak up, speak loud. Breathe a sigh. This cannot happen now. Margo Davis Twice nominated for a Pushcart, Margo’s poems have appeared in The Ekphrastic Review, Ocotillo Review, What Rough Beast, The Fourth River, The Houston Chronicle and Slipstream. Recent anthology publications include Enchantment of the Ordinary and Echoes of the Cordillera.
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The Ekphrastic Review
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April 2025
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