Third World Poem by jewel mazhar
Third World
Don't go. Stay with me
At least as the fate of the third world.
Yet the train will be on it's course
Leaving behind a weeping noon.
Utterly skeletal and emaciated noon.
Every night the widow and her craving
will both lean against the all-hole tree
called the third world.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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5/5/2024 10:47:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
