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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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THE FACTORY



the city so orderly
like a motherboard
thinks what has risen
from heavy machines
growling to produce
consumables
like those dolls who hold
the stares of children
and pretend to be good
listeners, is the night speaking
sweetly of a still song
held in a grass, sweeter
in its own silence like the dolls
oil comes into the brook
that goes to the cornfields
as irrigation
the boy on the farm
parts leaves
his eyelids are the window
the sun dips his fingers into
the evening comes
from the factory
spreads like rust
on a tool box
but when morning rushes
down the hill
she meets the crops
buried in soot‎

-Saddiq Dzukogi