Futures

No body has hair except for the ones
debris-floating who grew it
bloated and dead
shuttled down rivers
black sounds bobbing
like bullet holes
machined rhythms like
rain drops from
her sky
and henceforth
all questions
cracked open
so why was replaced
with THE END!
Whatever will birth, will birth
in unison will fade but
can’t
the future consumed
in a single file
children feeding children
my father has hair
is my only future.

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