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Through Her Clefts
Ribbons in the sea, what will you do-
Now there is a fabulous holocaust,
As you come down from the mountain,
Losing your candle wax on the rocks- going forever
According to the way she does,
Sleeping in her midnight busses, underneath the
Armpits of marionettes,
Or inside a dark forest that never stops to linger
For its knights-
Filled with witches underneath the seething stars,
Keeping wolves for pets
Who melt the snow to get to the wild nurseries
Before the foxes
To eat the things that grow- underneath the spindles
Of her sorority,
And through her clefts which tend to lose a
Person,
Especially a man who falls too deeply in love with her.
poem
by
Bret R. Crabrooke
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