something kills them all-
finally it becomes a matter of
dying of one thing or
the other-
the swollen belly children
go the way of famine,
the young men give in
to glory of war
silver haired women
yesterdays muses
fade and crumble to dust
for want of love
the memories of spring
and sex and song
and sonnet all that
is left
blue teens kill red ones
and gravy took my old man
and only a promise made
to someone last week
keeps me from drinking myself
to death
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