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ARIES
He
must destroy what has destroyed
so
much, lop out what has annoyed
the
swart flesh of his race too long:
the
thieves of dignity; the pale
dredgers
of muck whose suck and sale
of
lives still saps like dysentery;
the
farmer, prig and missionary;
the
special squads that come around.
What
he now forges underground,
self-payment
for what else he’s mined,
is
a weapon kissing-keen to find
its
thwarted consummation’s cue.
Then
ram will tup with the white ewe;
the
marriage yield a bloody wife.
Wishful
to think that he might make
honourably
at least his black
and
disproportionate demand.
When
anger and fear provoke his hand
it
is unlikely he will think to hack
with
fierce compassionate care, and slake
the
bayonet as if a surgeon’s knife.
Alan
Marshfield
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