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Nov 2020
Spine so curved,
can’t see the sky.
The pavements cracked;
the grass is dry.

Air smells odd,
The sky turned red.
States on fire
burned up the dead.

A mother prays
her child can eat.
A father works
to make ends meet.

The crops have turned
the soil sour.
A church bell turns,
another hour.
Day
Written by
Day  21/Genderqueer/St Louis
(21/Genderqueer/St Louis)   
58
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