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angel poem

i have heard that a certain princess
gone are the three, those sisters rare
risen from the dead
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
hang no wreath
up and down he goes
rose and amber was the sunset on the river
your body's motion is like music
in and of itself
my soul is a dark ploughed field
i am fevered
they in the darkness gather and ask
i am a woman

 



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