Of Haiti's D.N.A. Poem by James McLain

Why could you not.
One dropp of blood,
from each remove.
and Photograph.
Which they are due; but
here... just for a fine
a dollar...some must make.
Laid there to bake.
Before the mountains,
thus became
eXcuses all have made.
D.N.A.
Would reunite all the
masses
even massed, such as they.
So one would know where
two have gone,
grave, dots upon that stage.
Reason me,
none riddle: but for a slice of bread.