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mother daughter poem

long ago, in the young moonlight
with lips blood red and heart of stone
at dawn, he said
and breaketh bread no more
now that i have cooled to you
in your arms was still delight
the ships are lying in the bay
beneath the warrior's helm
who will be naming the wind
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
i love my hour of wind and light
dark-eyed
through the broad earth's aching breast

 



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