i see jackals
at the gates of graceland
a million fingers in a million pies
i see shackles on the hands of children
sons feeding mothers through a factory fence
tonight the moon is a flashlight beam
a wafer
the eucharist
a host
i hope for a handle behind it
maybe even a hand
(from the chapbook ROCKING GENTLY OUT OF SYNC, 1995)
. .
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