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mother daughter poem

os prayers brancos pequenos
mas alas, sonhos justos
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
nobility da morte outra vez
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingüeta
eu espero-o
têm você ouvido
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá

 



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