NO ONE GOD
No one god may trample the earth— let them— nor crush the
throats of the assailed— nor assault the keening— those that are
weightless— us little white kids are always singing— always
invading— always reaching into a space around dead mouths—
around the growth and brush— around the dead animals sketched
sparsely onto teeth— glow and frighten like shadows beneath the
moon— invading— comes a clearing— unmasks the foliage
covering the body of my assassin— I do not let her body sink— I
leave it by the pool— over there— the clean line— the Latifundia
quietly eating the entrails of its workers— they whimper at night
as their bodies disappear— as their bodies space each thought
against a thought of suicide— the way it gathers force— like
lust— moon's static bristling with dew— a sense of the moon
behind the snow— caught up in flickering snatches of trash—
TYPO
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