Gunpowder
You can tie me hand and foot
take my notebook and cigarettes
filled their mouths with earth
poetry and 'the blood of my heart
living rooms of my bread, light in my eyes. Sara
'written with her nails, eyes and iron, the
sing' in my prison cell,
to the bathroom in the barn
,
under the lash,
between strains in the throes of the chains.
I have inside me a million nightingales
To sing my song of struggle.
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