I sleep quite violently waking warm with thunder
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and I'm the magician's girl.
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Buttoning my cuffs at the wrist,
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and split from my neck to my knees,
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how badly I photograph.
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To dream of a duel, speaking furious in Latin, the scald scar of water.
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Woke snug as a virgin quietly humming.
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Scenes from France in General
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| The Promise Ring |
