We are America.We are the coffin fillers.We are the grocers of death.We pack them in crates like cauliflowers.The bomb opens like a shoebox.And the child?The child is certainly not yawning.And the woman?The woman is bathing her heart.It has been torn out of herand as a last actshe is rinsing it off in the river.This is the death market.America,where are your credentials?
-Anne Sexton
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