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That fire, they said, was red as red as redas red as a fox, your lips, a cherry;that fire, they said spread and spread and spread,faster than a cheetah or a nasty rumour;
Standing by the river, my face grewinto a flat fish and floated offto a lily pad, and I was lonelywithout myself, without my twin.
The moon was married last nightand nobody saw,dressed up in her ghostly dressfor the summer ball.
When I was bornI was a familiar,a black cat, Satan’s favourite form.