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grandma poem

à l'aube, il a dit
et ils marchaient toujours dessus
oranges de plumaison nubian bleu-noires
seule
ce qui conserve
le soleil a fait un pas vers le bas de son trône d'or
près d'un champ en détresse
désolé et seul
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
j'étais une déesse avant que le marbre m'ait trouvé

 



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