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poetry for kid

love has been sung a thousand ways
when the hours of day are numbered
as evening falls
he'd even have his joke
there are three ways in which men take
my soul is a dark ploughed field
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
see, from this counterfeit of him
see, they return
this is the arsenal
in mournful numbers
i am a woman
i was a goddess ere the marble found me

 



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