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grandma poem

my soul is a dark ploughed field
one with you
up from the meadows rich with corn
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways
to come so soon to this imagined dark
all quiet along the potomac
there is a country full of wine
tell me not
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
hang no wreath
i am a woman
i went up and down the streets
wheel me down by the meadow

 



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