CAROLINA

These dark cataracts in my eyes
only jeopardize the eyes
that flirt with your eyes;
my tear duct cries.

My lil’ Carolina, you are leaving.
My cleansing hands are deceiving.
My ammonia has a silver list.
My provoked nose is ticklish.
A cleaned room, this house gets weak.

I turn and hide from the girl on my side,
the girl on my side that I get to hurt.
I turn and hide from the girl on my side;
shame I had to lie to her.

I take to bed, the Latinized paper,
my tears in the notice of foreclosure.
Not much now, can be done for her–
my lil’ Carolina.

I am an effaced worker, an elephantine voter,
crushed under the infrastructure
of my belly-leaf (belief) structure.
not much now, can be done for her–
my lil’ Carolina.

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