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footprint poem

dans ma main je me tiens
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
du plancher au plafond
peut-être
dites-moi moins ou dites-moi davantage
soudainement, hors des manières foncées et feuillues
s'est levé et l'ambre était le coucher du soleil sur le fleuve
hors de la mer de scintillement

 



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