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Annah Browning |
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In the morning I return again
no hair. The children do not
and touch my hands.
is fear. I ride all morning
me. I ask him, is this where
and he says, yes. The trees are full
The parrots flicker like candles.
already belongs to God. A snake
there’s somebody saying, | ||
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Sometimes, you fall in love
you. You want to be close
and fondle his ears. They are
down the hill in dusk. They are
of an ocean. They were coins | ||
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How the world fell
so much fruit. Look, the flesh
teems with things, little clots
to you, as I do, too— I cross
your fingers left me stroked
the hole in the hill where you
again, soon dear, we will have |