Poetry: Sunt lacrimae rerum | clivejames.com
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Sunt lacrimae rerum

There are tears in things. Things mortal touch the heart.
On the favela, sitting in the paste
Of clay and urine, in the fever season
At the festering tip of a high-level Hades,
Is the plastic duck of a little girl who died
Of typhus, and the image makes me blink,
Recalling the lost earring found inside
The crumpled dashboard of a crushed Mercedes.