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Two laughers are
sailing
Into her eyes,
And a drop of
water.
A leg is dragging
Another,
The courts
Have gone innocent
Of the color of her
infancy,
Her screaming,
And her plait.
An hour later,
She shall retire
To her mirror,
Her own box,
Searching
For cities that
Had been here.
A girl
With a brown mouth,
On a dead path,
In a river absented
From a rustic night
Tearing apart
The apparel of her
childhood
And untying her
plaits. |
The feet of hers
are sinking
In the narrow
laneways,
She is panting for
a sky
To sport with the
stars thereof,
She fells a star,
She hoists a star.
Fear
Knocks the dreams
of hers down,
Fear is but another
love,
Fury,
Like love,
Weeping, too, like
love,
Present her with
stars
For the gown of
hers,
Made soft by palm
trees.
Who guides a heart
to
To the course of
the heaven of his?
Who teaches her
The petulance
Of the body
When
He falls down
A mere fruit?
The mouth of hers
is but an apple,
At a loss,
She gets aglow
With a lover,
Laying in wait.
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