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funeral poem

minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
duas fileiras dos repolhos
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
porque então, a obrigação nós vê?
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
como eu me encontro telhado dentro, selecionado dentro
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
sumário em uma noite do vôo
vontade você glimmer no mar?
para trás, gire para trás

 



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