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twelve children on twelve children on

separate stone

pedestals

discussing

the politics of the playground

the blackness of the ground beneath

their feet

shadowed by

the sun directly

above their capless minds

which have yet to

learn to sacrifice

personal glowing spheres

only visible in dreams

for a keyboard and numb fingers

cold like stone bars

hang children by

their arms

nearby

mothers cradle

the other children

with porcupine arms

& butterfly wings

and after the night had silently killed itself

in order to be

more remembered

than it deserved

you said that my heart was

a muscle the

size of your fist

but my fist is bigger

& you don't know

how i love

[170218]