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Feb 2019
Little John lived up the hill.
Where the birds flew under his legs
and the dust rolled off his porch.

John would not live to meet the gaze
of a tall woman,
Shaniqua.

Her braids flapped in the direction of the wind.
Her cheeks turned red when he saw little John's shadow.
Her eyes began tearing when she saw little John's body,
Arms sprawled over the top of the hill,
As if hugging Mother Earth.

A parallel line of red gashes surround his back.
Slavery is never good.
Written by
Juan Bot  25/Gender Questioning/The surface of the earth
(25/Gender Questioning/The surface of the earth)   
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