DAVID DULCEANY IF EVERY LEAF HAD A VOICE The frozen flame of the vigil cabbage stream As Ice could, in all his calculated glory, relive The wood slot formed by preaching bureaucrats After surveying the surroundings, it was found That the office was indeed empty As they once indicated, previously During some lapse in consciousness If every leaf had a voice, an intense conviction It would proclaim the preciousness of life Or attempt to take arms against abortion
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