War Song
Forgive my country, bread.
Forgive how I, under your nose, live: 

how I, like the horse’s tongue,
speak, how I
in the smudge and fray of ribs
among the tilt and tat of thighs, breathe.

Forgive, life, how
your body was.
Forgive my country,
your armory, the bread of war.
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