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child poem

among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
a few more windy days
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
tell me less or tell me more
up from the meadows rich with corn
had he and i but met
risen from the dead
if i were very sure
take my bracelets
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
why do

 



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