Harlem
Langston Hughes, “Harlem” from *Collected Poems.*What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over— like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
* Or does it explode? *

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