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POEM ROUGE

SATS
Driving
IQ
Myers-Briggs

name the test
I already failed it
or would do
quite disastrously
first time around

except perhaps
the Pol Pot gnarled
and scarred hand
peasant and
proletariat class test

no way
would get anything but
a distinction
the scars
that I carry
wounded so liberally
by all whom I loved

nothing beautiful bourgeois
or elite about
these battered arms
knuckles, fingers
nothing to
send me direct to
some Khmer firing squad
to atone for
my sin of
unspeakable privilege

taste test I can
do
however suitably blindfolded
can always tell
the difference
between liberal
taste of
bleu

and rose
of true rouge