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wedding poem

a noite era preta e drear
escute o mar soando
deixe-me mover-se lentamente através da rua
os céus que eram ashen e sober
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
eu disse
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
em setembro

 



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