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mother poem

look out upon the stars, my love
to come so soon to this imagined dark
burly, dozing humble-bee
take my bracelets
will you glimmer on the sea?
my son is dead and i am going blind
now that i have cooled to you
above them all, looking down
he's gone
had he and i but met
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
we break the glass whose sacred wine
little park that i pass through

 



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