Secret Ingredients
Murder
an old farmers sink-
her mind miles away from the
blood in the carpet
–
back garden soil-
no amount of soap
makes her feel clean
Distance
under summer stars-
in the fading moonlight she
could almost be you
–
iron skies-
across the piazza
you become the crowd
America
black america
locked inside the golden door
yearning to breathe free
–
hot city streets-
new seedlings break
through the concrete
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