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When Writing Poems Could Get You Killed

When Writing Poems Could Get You Killed


I used to like to pound the typewriter

keys and pretend

I was hearing gunshots in an almond orchard,

the bullets neatly unbuttoning

the poet's white dress

shirt, this back when

I used to spend a lot of time wishing

we lived in a time when writing

poems could get you killed

instead of getting you a tenure-track job.

But when I think of Lorca

leaning on the shovel the fascists gave him

to dig his own grave, out

of breath from digging his own grave,

when I think of Lorca I think

what was I thinking?

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