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gothic poetry

i am fevered
all quiet along the potomac
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
have we no shame?
skies they were ashen and sober
i have heard them in the night
who loves the rain
those black eyes i once so praised
from song and dream for ever gone
i stand in the cold gray weather
brief on a flying night
my son is dead and i am going blind
i am singing to you

 



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