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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-10-05 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] | The sleep talking woman Found herself irregularly struck By the wind’s unintelligible mumble She grasped the zenith And took in the stars Trying to break what no man in white could break By fist, bite, swear Or even love Marshy weather rumbling In this ceremonious August walk She took that day to the sea Deep in the waters she found a piece of her Destined vow to the drowned She was a lighthouse for lost sailors A siren in a constellation Waving her 12 feet long hair Like another feet wipe Clenched fingers through the damp earth Dug shells and silicon sands To cover her body entirely In normality Milk bursting from her breasts Fed the creeping beasts around She was unwedded and unloved She was alert and waiting She was the virgin in the ward.
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