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By Milt Mays

He’s thrown a sickle and hammer at the crystal wall of stars

that spangle my memory of our nation’s soul

now dying, 

a breath away from ICU,

a cloud away from lightning cracking and felling

our founding fathers’

tree of life, 

after clocks ticking tongue licked too many eyes closed

to the stinking, slinking, predatory

evil spreading

into the hearts of heroes and soldiers … and you

who were once good people, who wished for return

to greatness, a rocket he promised to fly, then whiplashed

and crashed into a cliff of tangled, lying snakes,

stealing our freedom and greatness

for another penny

of power.

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