And when the earth
Is ill with shale
Each day will blister
From a pitch-dark shadow
All the drops that save us
Will be abused
So we the dogs
Can eviscerate all that is holy
We have stolen the
Voices from gravel
And grass and sand
As if they cannot suffer
Bacause we have
Not earned this place
We have not earned this place
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem