may butterflies rise from yr grave every year(for garcia lorca)
by Rob Plath
a soldier pumped
two bullets
into yr buttocks
for being a queer
then another
into the branches
of yr lung
for being
a poet
another word
for dirty communist
to them
you were their worst enemy
w/unplugged asshole
& wide open singing
lung bags
i imagine yr
assassin bragging
about it afterwards
to his comrades
then later that night
giving his wife a good
hetero fascist fuck
his dick standing like
a middle finger
to commie faggot poets
his [...]
