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family poem

and my name is truthful
the ships are lying in the bay
she burst fierce wine
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
let us pity those who are better off than we are
this ancient silver bowl of mine
i am fevered
my true love from her pillow rose
risen from the dead
still thirteen years
when i go back to earth
one by one, like leaves from a tree

 



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