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friend poem

darkest, strangest mystery
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
there was a strangeness on your lips
see the tentative
a bird sang
there is an hour of peaceful rest
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
as evening falls
out of me unworthy and unknown
two rows of cabbages
since i have felt the sense of death
tell me less or tell me more

 



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