about the first flower in earth this season
but how can I forget to mention
how this land has been cultivated
with blood and sweat
kisses and hard blows to its guts
how can I switch the ways
in which I think, only worry about which flower is first to bloom
out of the same earth that contains
the ash that had been once human, lost without question
with the fever of a thousand houses
collapsing at once, a blackout of live and memory.
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