A cut-up poem for Ukraine

A small poem made from words cut out from the Saturday 26 February edition of The Guardian.

26 February 2022

It took us six hours to pack a rucksack:

junk food, an iPhone 12, a warm jumper,

earplugs, spoons, a makeshift weapon.

I saw this year's director of happiness

they smiled back.

"I am aware of all these scenarios.

Get a lot of sunshine. Be happy.

This is happening to other people."

I tried to call my friend

Then I heard a sound a terrible tremor

I saw many children;

and I just hope they will not die