Mozambique
Mozambique
From shimmering oil
of ebony still
will come flailing of limbs
will come hacking
quick slashing
of hands now untied
tattooing no pattern
not even a maze
depriving gray walls
of their stone
will come spittle
wild churning rivers
agush from slack jaws
of blanching gray hounds
till one day at dawn
will come quiet
Donal Mahoney
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