In honduras cotton smoked and burned for days
To be outdone by guatamala
To be outdone by texas
With a pitchfork and a bell
Grubby little runners bring her news of me second
hand
I won’t tell her roaches eat my clay sculpture
I wanna tell her I am headless I am headless
She’s walking on the great bloody dirt down
there
Sleeping in the soft brown ring down there
Grubby little runners bring her news of me second
hand
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