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daughter poem

eu não queimo nenhum incense
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
acima de e para baixo vai
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
eu sou fevered
a escuridão rola para cima
uma milha atrás
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado

 



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