These words are my mother’s,
my father’s, my brother’s, my lender’s, my garbage
man’s—the poem runs
like oil on fire
beneath this earth where we know each other.
Witness the black smoke everywhere.

Auteur: B.J. Ward

These words are my mother’s,<br />my father’s, my brother’s, my lender’s, my garbage<br />man’s—the poem runs<br />like oil on fire<br />beneath this earth where we know each other.<br />Witness the black smoke everywhere. - B.J. Ward

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