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Requiem for Iron Man Vasquez
1. Skeleton Tree
From the time I was five, I been big—meat
and bone and concrete clumps instead of hands.
My Ma, she did her damndest not to beat
me. Even when, most times, I couldn’t stand
the sight of her, and like the little punk
I always knew I was, I swatted her
thin, pale thighs with my hands—they were tree trunks
then, even at that age. I painted her
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