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the short breath

poetry and what words wait at the end of long pauses

Monday, May 01, 2006

MOSQUITO NET

MOSQUITO NET

my face
was an african bed
your eyes rested on

i folded mine

saw you with
my hands

knew you

did not move
as your seasons
changed

it was summer still
mosquitoes left
your body
burned
incense and your hair
shaded me
Posted by Raymond Marias at Monday, May 01, 2006

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