Chicano Poet

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Of Burning Monks

When I left my precious hometown
it was a payday of sacrifice
for what I had done to you

black mold growing on the moon
the military police in marshmallow-armored shorts

would you testify in court
your mind a wild flower
you said you never enjoyed the pleasure
and that only monks were flammable.

How you changed your ways.


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