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daughter poem

the single clenched fist lifted and ready
there is no escape by the river
city that is not a city
i have to say good-night
tripping up, falling down
under a spreading chestnut tree
which i wish to remark
for then without
a very remarkable history this is
i love my life, but not too well
in the dark and peace of my final bed
now that i have cooled to you
backward, turn backward

 



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