Friday, October 26, 2007

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Oh, I remember

Coming home, babe in arms,
to find you gone
A cool November day,
we left you in the ground

You comforted me once later
Now it's nearly November again
And cool. The soft sound of rain
The river rising, and I wait

The rain of fire kills
brown-skinned people far away
In my name. You would have
hated this. And are well free

You would not know your country
We have become so unkind
so unvirtuous And afraid.
Terrifically afraid.


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