for I serenaded the sun today
my mouth a tunnel
didn't think of Kapernick's knee
then Chauvin's knee
for the wind refuses to be silent
as it flicks its tail
can't think of Kapernick's knee
then Chauvin's knee
for the war becomes metaphor
only when revolution is near
don't think of Kapernick's knee
then Chauvin's knee
for this is a poem that kills poets
--whose ghosts live forever
for it thinks of Kapernick's knee
then Chauvin's knee
________________________________________
Pic: sunrise and tea on "fall-back" Sunday.
I wore my hair in a braid and was clearly trying to juggle other strands here as well.
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