passed

Never trust a country where the graves of the poets
Have been devoured with the stones and flowers
Never dream of the motherland touching you with her poisoned fingernails
Smokestacks, clouds stabbed with screwdrivers
Missed traffic lights are the beauty of the landscapes
Rats wipe stale words from teeth dictionaries and tinfoil hats as a matter of routine
They can’t hear the screams they eat
After a subway train has passed

 

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