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african american poetry

elle pourrait l'avoir su en ressort premier
au-dessus d'elles toutes, regardant vers le bas
son visage est juste et lisse et bon
vieux vin à boire
je meurs
nous nous étendons
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
quand vous venez ce soir
je suis fevered
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi

 



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