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Poem-a-Day
 
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Mission Creek

MISSION CREEK

What once ran red
when the butcheries bled
out like a steer slaughtered
and spinning on chains
now runs whatever color
the sky hands down to the water
like a child at a shelter
the creek will wear whatever
it is given without discernment
or complaint as it always has
the only difference being that
back then all the clothes were red
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