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funeral poem

hay cualquiera allí
me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad
quién ama la lluvia
todos se callan a lo largo del potomac
dulce y fuerte
he tenido un miedo en mi vida
en sus brazos estaba el placer inmóvil
con los ojos mansos, marrones
trenzado y tejido
hermano, soy fuego
mi dolor, cuando ella está aquí con mí

 



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