The Politics of Scarcity
by Benjamin Nash


In a line,
one, two, three little ones in a line
follow their mother across
the road,
no cars,
a quiet day.

They head for water,
the cold water,
silent
like
a church day.

Out of the sky,
no sound,
swoops
down,

the red-shouldered hawk
grabs one of the
raccoons,

desperate,
dark,

and it doesn't rain.






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