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About This Poem
not so funny, brother
not so funny, brother
when the bitter pills
of undue death
hit the rain-leaked roofs -
when the bomb-buried legs
shoot out
fearing for the unready burial -
when the pregnant woman
in dying curses the unborn
child from afflictions
& impositions of poverty -
then 'tis then
that a toad runs at noon for naught!
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