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father poem

cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio
cuando las horas del día se numeran
debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel
usted es mi compañero
soy una mujer
cómo es salvaje, cómo bruja-como extraño que la vida debe ser

 



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