old milk go biscuits
emaciated briquettes
dried apricots plums
cranberries revived
blessed water go biscuits
a dry run for coming famine
famine elsewhere
coming home to lie
with we who have enough
for now famine chases
farm factory workers
too sick to work
too sick to not
falling dead in furrows
falling dead at conveyors
falling dead at cutting
blocks stolen away greedy
combines’ viscous mowing
spit out in bales
buried during dark
moon’s moaning
bitter harvest
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