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Slavery (300 Years Deep)
Press re-wind
on my basement
and
there is
blood
and burning
And squeezing
And cramming
And skewers
And knotted rope
And rusty shackles
And horse heads
for dancing
across uneven
concrete floors.
It’s a big room
full of dirt
Or dust
Or ground up
bones
that the ladies
powdered
their faces
with.
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