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mom poem

minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
dê-me
filhas do tempo
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
para trás, gire para trás
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingüeta
completamente dos rasgos
quando você vier hoje à noite
aflija-se não para o invisível
nós que estiveram
eu estive pelo casement aberto

 



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