The debate
'The debate' by Rob Lowe
Like those quotidian voices,
And the child in the warm kitchen
Clinging close to her father’s knee;
Against that well-armed hot debate,
In the shell blasts of emotion,
By a chamber carried about
On the batons of fear and hate,
My small poems were swept away –
They said, with a fist in the air,
We have conquered the enemy!
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