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The wheatgrass of a government flag sways -
taut and unbroken -
with the rolling rain-front-come-gone,
straining at roots of fidelity with each slow breeze.

Somewhere in the breadbasket,
a child cries at the future planned before her -
at blowing cornfields of engineered caution -
but Good Parents have already left her with a nanny.

Her tiny, chubby hands grasp at nothing in particular as
rolling clouds pass above her.
Mother left her long ago and
she'll grow to forget.


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-=[ Blank this intentional space! ]=-


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The following comments are for "Wheatgrass Whey"
by ak7raplt





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