If the pines are the
needles plunged
deep in your back
back where you
left your telephone
tower and all
things still wet in cement
admire such notions
as not needing
for breathing
take comfort in child brides
whose suicidal suitors
shall rise from the
graves of
500 Afghan soldiers
17 Kurdish rebels
two Chinese peasant children
quite concentrated
over a game
of chess.
[Brooklyn, New York 2008]
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