Backwoods Slum
alone in this filth
shaded by trees
the neighbors
and their sea of
broken cars
the naked children
dining on
squirrel meat
and playing
with mismatched
shoes and broken
baby doll heads,
nicotine stained
American flags
floundering above
toward the
gray black
sky
polishing off
a magnum
of rotgut wine
the blood red ring
branded around
these lips
as you greet the
mourning of this
backwoods slum
crossing
the overgrown
grasses
to the empty
mailbox
hardly noticing
the shards of
broken glass
sticking up into
these bare feet
as trucks backfire
and you disappear
in clouds of
exhaust
and choke
on futility
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