so long as the poem has an imaginary author. Like this one:
Will her brothers mourn
the loss of their jeweled seed?
Her mother has baked all night
dead silent in the kitchen.
The ashes are bitter as cacaotl grounds
But give no liminal visions.
Sunrise: the bread is dense, each slab gray as evening moss.
The father will not eat his slice-
It’s salted with
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