Poem: A Prayer

Flying together in harmonyMay those afflicted with demons that pour bile in the ear

(and more corrosive spirit everywhere else)

recognize, as with an epiphany of grace —

the kind normally associated with visions of angels and women who have conceived

without the mess —

that the land they profess to love and cherish,

like a child,

which mirrors both the best and worst of his daddy’s soul, prismatic,

is a reflection of the men and women and lovers and haters that occupy the dirt,

brown and black and gray sometimes, when the fertility has been sucked out by greedy roots.

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