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A poem for florence welch

Posted on March 15 2011

I stand outside and look down the street

Right down 9th Avenue

Lights.

Mostly red

Brake lights

Stop.

Stay.

Do Not Move!

Stand behind the trees and hide

Like it were a jungle

Red

Don’t move

Stand behind the trees and hide

Like it were a jungle

Red

Don’t move

Look at him,

Maybe you want to shoot him

Pierce his back with an arrow.

 

Who carries arrows in a city?

Women with plans.

Poem: Shala Monroque 2005

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