each line drawn across the globe
many steps to bring buildings down
boots for
the milling crowds
smile on the faces of decadent flowers
crumpled to bits
by plague
there's this refrigerator door
left open uninstalled
in the basement cold
through prison bars, the delicate oven
what it bakes
it makes up for in flesh
cooking their essence ankle deep
wailing against the white brick
bent to cylinder shape
stabbed into the heart of the welted world.
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