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Obemata
prologue: they snatched the box stole the ballot ballot-snatchers
then: they moved into high places strange inhabitants strangers to earth
now: the ballot has become the cup that passes between our mouths sorrow lingers in the throat
epilogue: while we are still mere onlookers go home to your wives ballot-riggers
b. longing
what do I want when the lamp glowing in our hearts drags to itself the shadows of night?
to gather your breast in my mouth night wears the bra
gathered pressed down down into my mouth what do I want when the light turns off?
to make my mouth as rotund as your nipple
c. war room
now again he sits at the table in the war room
in sync with the stars and stripes
when you look briefly at a thing hardly would you recall its look long after
so I spy the room my eyes take in two tables
table one: weapon of mass destruction table two: body bags
this is no moment for brief glances he sits at the table now and again
counting white crosses naming the dead
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Obemata |
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Sentinel Poetry (Online) #50. January 2007 ISSN 1479-425X |
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THE INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF POETRY & GRAPHICS...since December 2002 |
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Editor-in-Chief: Amatoritsero Ede |
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