The Glassy-Eyed Children
The glassy-eyed children
watches in sleep
mothers sitting on tobacco trunks
on men's trunks
their laughter fills the ravines with water
from the stone thread fashions nipples
feeding their babies.
On the lady who was smiling cheerfully
young men with a vanilla taste
dig holes in it fresh from the steps
sheltered by the man she loved
piece by piece
in foreign languages
they call their children
on right arm
scribbles her name
as in a barren land
of a war more alive over the peace.
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