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memorial poem

the arches of the red bridge
were it not for that singular smell
look out upon the stars, my love
the swan existing
i have had one fear in my life
do not turn your head
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
to clothe the fiery thought
since i have felt the sense of death
love me at last, or if you will not
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
do not grieve that it is over

 



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