Crack Fetus.

In the age of raw love
and unprotected laughter,

we found this new tonic
testing child's play
in the urban ghettos—

meadow fields where ghost flowers
grew right through 

fertile fetal soils of
cement floors
of dilapidated brownstones.
They'd strip
their laughter
then lay down enough blankets
for me to reach
the bedrock under the river needed
to tunnel a birth canal through.
With the world's eyes dilating in the light,
They'd laugh

as I'd count down
the dust sheep
out of sleep.

Mark Anthony Thomas
Copyright © 2011

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