Starvation Campaign
a poem
Pot-bellied children,
stick thin,
teeth protruding
like yellowed piano keys
They lounge in the gutter
unable to move.
Their pixelated forms,
captured in infrared.
We pull apart their jaws
and climb in
—boots first.
We flay their world open
and drink its sweet milk.
It drips of sin
and suffering.
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