Night Country
I'm flying from a place that banned my poem
to one that gave the poem. I have my papers
and fingerprints, ready to enter your home,
pull one of your white cotton shirts over me,
and when you come to bed, my night country,
rest my uncovered head on your left shoulder.
to one that gave the poem. I have my papers
and fingerprints, ready to enter your home,
pull one of your white cotton shirts over me,
and when you come to bed, my night country,
rest my uncovered head on your left shoulder.
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