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mother daughter poem

era uma oysterman novo alto
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
em sua barraca guardada
a noite era preta e drear
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
tempestade
quando eu retornei no por do sol
os arcos da ponte vermelha
glass-blower do tempo
vindo para baixo no alvorecer dos montes windless
eu tive um medo em minha vida
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe

 



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