Drought poem



the drought


the heat is a hundred fahrenheit.
it comes from the open mouth
of fear—you become what you eat.
souls evaporate in sandy hook,
connecticut. grass becomes sand.
walking thirsty over the burning
ground, we remember freedom.

a college student of twenty-five
mutters, “we are very cynical.”
her wealthy background perspiring
in her vegetarianism, lesbianism
(even now marrying a rich man
may be a solution for some). her soul
moist with compassion, she thirsts.

read the entire poem



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