Monday, April 08, 2013

[Poem] Golden Triangle, Holy Mountain

Will I ever see poppies
In their natural habitat?
 How red they appear in
 All of these pictures beside
 Mountain women with their
 Dark turbans
 Dour and thin
 Up to their waists in grass.
 Leftover bombs loiter
 At their cautious feet
 Who have no time for
 Strangers pleading with
 Them to say cheese
 Gone with a flash of light
 Before the harvest is done

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