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baby poem

the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
night was black and drear
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways
when a deed is done for freedom
high-born race
i am singing to you
were it not for that singular smell
so lost
a bird sang
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
passing through huddled and ugly walls

 



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