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Slow black maggots sludge over the ram’s skull O’Keefing the living room,

 

Bodies feeding on bone.

 

Sweat like sad glitter cast upon my skin, limp before the fan, an etiolated

 

Ghost. O tropic stick,

 

Muggy unbearable zone, humid brutality, summer of sick!

 

Even the ink

 

Perspires onto the page, creates only damp, empty poems.

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