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lyric poem

white foam flower, red flame flower
pushing out, struggling vainly
let me be sad
in the dark and peace of my final bed
dark-eyed
the dawn was apple-green
there is no flock, however watched and tended
in and of itself
let me move slowly through the street
if the red slayer think he slays
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me

 



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