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By Suzanne Westhaver These parasites, They attack the root, Killing from the bottom until the surface, Deprived, Becomes desolate--unyielding. Ungrounded, Sustenance cannot be found. I think of you, Stretched out On the hood As stars shoot across the Haitian sky. And, Wonder what nourishment failed to reach you? © Copyright 2004, Suzanne Westhaver, All Rights Reserved. |
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Document last modified on: 01/06/2007