Poetics

xxviii

maybe we’ll never know how this can

be — the yellow, the length. and what’s lila?

you’ll be tall all your life.

always mistaking love for (an) assassination.

and the halls — they will be there,

carpeted, busts, orange,

MK Abiola and war generals.

ways of dying — you’ll be there,

listening, dreaming, in the way only

people like us can.

and by that i mean walking down Grogon,

a black river.

we will be all we can — listening

to the unnecessary, praising

bad men. and violence.

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