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My Heartunes lie in a wooden box
Hidden away from condemnation
Told my thoughts were disturbing
This poet has determination

Perhaps I wrote them to the wrong Ph.d
Only agronomy was his concern
My beautiful lovers poetry
Perhaps it should be burned?

It hurt my husband
Those words I wrote to another man
To someone educated
I wanted to help understand

Understand what it's like
To rise above being poor white trash
To have all those words inside
Your mind that may seem rash

Now my displaced poetry
Has no where to go
The words they will flow free
If I could only let someone know

A critic to tell me
Yes, society would be in shock
With your displaced poetry
Better to keep it in your wooden box.

4/11/1995 0220 cj

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