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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.
Forest could keep secretsForest could keep secrets
It's five past three.Sixty-four eyes look at me.No. Sixty-two.Not Matthew.He hasn't learnt to read my face.He's got digital. A disgrace!
In our flatfaces speakof places across the sea.
In our flatvoices walk intalking, but not like me.
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.
The space is a friend.I tell it what hurts.
I tell it why I'm not good.The space is a friend.I tell it the bother I'm in.It won't let me tell lies.