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Slavery (300 Years Deep)

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Press re-wind

on my basement
and

there is
blood
and burning

And squeezing  
And cramming
And skewers

And knotted rope
And rusty shackles
And horse heads

for dancing
across uneven
concrete floors.

It’s a big room
full of dirt
Or dust

Or ground up
bones

that the ladies
powdered
their faces
with.






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