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fall poetry

el prado se arrastraba
el amor se ha cantado mil maneras
para poder ver cada lado de cada pregunta
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
con los ojos mansos, marrones
cuando miraba en sus ojos
oí el viento todo el dia
el movimiento de su cuerpo es como música
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras

 



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