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teen poem

in an old chamber softly lit
it was a tall young oysterman
with lips blood red and heart of stone
we break the glass whose sacred wine
last midnight
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
the saddest of the year
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
sad are they who know not love
when, full of warm and eager love
i saw him once before

 



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