The Children’s Crusade
The streets sing mud songs.
We listen
Stephen saw it. Nicholas too.
A headless man walks
out from the river.
We march in innocent
rag armor to ships
that wait where the sea
fails to part.
They wave
from one shore,
then the other.
Our destination
is always holy.
A headless man walks
out from the river.
We march in innocent
rag armor to ships
that wait where the sea
fails to part.
They wave
from one shore,
then the other.
Our destination
is always holy.
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