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thanksgiving poem

their beautiful hair
death's nobility again
tell me
there's one that i once loved so much
made up of loveliness alone
i am fevered
brief on a flying night
city that is not a city
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
glooms of the live-oaks
quietly, with reverance, in awe
with joy and wonder
in halls of sleep you wandered by
the little white prayers

 



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