Ameably, the crows ran for draino
from the perch we shared.
it set them back about nine dollars.
I cried on the perch alone.
there are miles to go before I’m glad,
there is one chicken for every egg.
I called you a light in the village,
and now there are many,
and my map of love
is better than brevity could ever make.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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