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Poems

Siempre

1 August 2013

1:00 PM

1 August 2013

1:00 PM

I am not jealous.

If you arrived
with a man on your back,
or a hundred men
hanging in the rigging of your hair,
or a thousand men
sleeping on the soft mound of your belly,
if you were a river
filled with drowned men
met by the furious sea
foaming at its mouth,
by eternal weather –










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