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grandmother poem

ella dijo
mi dolor, cuando ella está aquí con mí
las viejas canciones
no éramos muchos
pero no puedo ahora leerle
hay una hora del resto pacífico
renueve la visión del placer
su cara es justa y lisa y fina
los pasillos de mármol resounding largos
hice un voto una vez, uno solamente
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate

 



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