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mom poem

city that is not a city
let us express our baser passions
what do i owe to you
see, they return
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
good woman
out of the sparkling sea
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
a bird sang
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
my son is dead and i am going blind
i said
beautiful, tragical faces

 



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