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footprint poem

to the passionate lover
two rows of cabbages
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
in halls of sleep you wandered by
in the sphere
up from the meadows rich with corn
which i wish to remark
leave the lovely words unsaid
stern cold man
we who stood
i am a woman
who loves the rain
see, from this counterfeit of him
the agony of having too much power

 



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