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In The Beating Shade
Saying the séance to the séance
Says with all of the will of a marionette
Propped as a doll
Against the sea—she will come and she
Will lull,
And the moon will pull her up against
The sky scrapers for a better view—
If it is his wish—
A silver knight will see her there—
A silver fish in a silver dish—
And the airplanes spinning around her,
Silver-winged mobile in the swelter
Of the paraffin sun—
And she will slink and pray and hold her
Head between her hands
And think about all of the time that
She lost-
Or she will yawn, and there will be no more
Time for the narcolepsies of such pretty things:
And she will cast off all of her beauties
And sleep open mouthed in the beating shade.
poem
by
Bret R. Crabrooke
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