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lost love poem

donnez-moi la faim
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
du soleil ni des étoiles
levé des morts
prenez mes bracelets
à partir du sud à la coupure du jour
il y a trois ans d'aujourd'hui
le mouvement de votre corps est comme la musique
il y a trois manières dont les hommes prennent
comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal
bas! 'tis par nuit de gala

 



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