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sister poem

sleep, gray brother of death
i can not tell you now
this is the ship of pearl
high walls and huge
when the wind works against us in the dark
at dawn, he said
take my bracelets
why are the things that have no death
i have to say good-night
which keeps
up from the south at break of day
splendid and terrible your love
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb

 



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