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The Crossings Editorial Team

Democracy

Come down off your rotted tree. Lips stitched by death.

Black bodies hang by necks. White teeth in black caves.

Smiling eyes of hegemony stare egalitarians in the soul.

Muted voices scream.

Come down off your rotted tree. Lips stitched by death.

Black bodies hang from white trees, on white ropes, in white clothes, by black broken necks.


Painting: Dead Rose by Catherine Trant, Class of 2015

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