Children digging in the fields

Children digging in the fields
Of a far distant planet
For glass eyes
And old boots filled
With ammonia-stardust-pennies

Child slaves digging in the
Black fields
Of Arkansas fearing
Giant chickens shouldering
Old ford cars
Woven by looms
Into fish net stockings

Children once again
The night after the doll’s house
Caught fire and rained down
Roman generals dressed in seafood
And placed into wooden boxes
With the ink and the chicken claws

Children hoeing the fields
On the moon with star buckles
In their satchels wearing
Old spectacles and body rumour
That hyacinths absorb in the night
Like Labradors

Children rowing longboats
Into Homeric mists
As he stands in
The bald patch of
A limerick that
Is dropped into
Palm muted violins

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