HOW MARTIN LUTHER KING WAS DYING Poem by Slavko Jendričko

HOW MARTIN LUTHER KING WAS DYING



My mother
keeps the promised yogurt of
paradise in the refrigerator.
Pigs resurrect in ice.
A peasant enters the pigsty.
In waders
he feels blood and warm guts.
Airplane flies above his backyard.
Not a sign of wander
could be seen
on his face.
Martin Luther King:
Martin Luther King.

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