by Ruth Stone

Strangely, I didn't notice the title until I'd read through the poem. Probably Ruth Stone's face is title enough. "And speaking of real sin" hits me right where we need to be smacked around quite a bit, what with all the drones falling oh so pilot-lessly onto villagers. Drones, as in worker bombs, not big fancies like that Fat Man and Little Boy. This poem is politically powerful and shows all the youngsters what's up.

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