An odor he sugarcane:
a mixture of blood and body, a penetrating
petal t brings nausea.
Bet palms the graves are full
of ruined bones, of speectles.
te dictator is talking
op s, gold braid, and collars.
tiny palace gleams like a ch
and th gloves on
cross t times
and join the dead voices
and ths freshly buried.
t be seen, like a plant
wh,
.
red has grown scale on scale,
bloly er of the swamp,
full of ooze and silence