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I saw a bride splendid in white garmentsI saw a woman with one hundred children The children plump and firm within her arms,
Dada has stories from Calcuttawrapped up in his big belly.When he belched they would unravel.
At dawn, she climbs over the horizonto slink between the curtainsand rest her head on your pillow.
The sea lays big glass hands on the sand,spreading its fingers out as if newto the shore. It can’t quite believe in it.It wants to hold on before the glass breaks.