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grandma poem

le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
dans ma main je me tiens
je suis une femme
avec le rouge de sang de lèvres et le coeur de la pierre
l'obscurité
beaux, tragical visages
un, comme part d'un arbre
hors de moi indigne et inconnu
nous avons aucune honte?

 



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