Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Poplar

Black breath wind
Like thin laced white magnolia skin
Of the not so distant South
We mouth our penitence
Like we mean it
But wouldn't we be screaming
If they took away our freedom?

These Kings & Queens
Swinging like fruit from poplar trees

Blood drips
Rhythmic drums
Like Rain on rooftops

Run
Run
Run?

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