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prose poetry

over the river, on the hill
perhaps
the body may confine
brother, i am fire
passing through huddled and ugly walls
above them all, looking down
under a spreading chestnut tree
i fill this cup
in the cloud-gray mornings
out of the sparkling sea
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
i am a woman
among the mountains i wandered

 



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