Halfway North with Purple JuiceA Poem by VERONICAFloating halfway North along the Ubangi, And sipping from my juice box, The black moon whispers, "motherland" And I pray I'm not too far off.
The cool, purple-flavored liquid, That trickles around my chin, Slowly seeps through the wooden raft; Struggling, earnestly, to join the river pure.
Much like my genetic material (Traveling from Africa to Europe and last seen in America), The oxidane in my juice, Processed and chemicalized, is fundamentally water.
Poorly moored on the Eastern shore, I free the remainder of my juice into the sea- Sand molds over my feet, grabbing, urging, And I am, deliberately, pulled in. © 2010 VERONICAReviews
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6 Reviews Added on October 3, 2008 Last Updated on March 15, 2010 Author
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