Tulip‑sequined wind, night‑shimmying sea,

long bloom of desert sands, and the roar of the spring

festival onto the grass: tell me the mother,

before our history sprouted, should have thrown

herself under the blades to save her child.  Yes, tell me

the father should have given to God the Father

his own life, not his son's.  Tell me, if all,

man, woman, child, had thrown their lives away

rather than take that dumb, furred sacrifice

still squeaking its lives out under our knives

would all our history have borne different fruits?

We planted no orchard here next to City Hall

but the walls still shake.  What are we ploughing under

         when we do that prime time shimmy?

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