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Late, I am plaited.
Hair combed and cuddled.
Bathed I smell of sweetness
And milk. Warm in your arms
I am your girl, your baby.
Love, the day's news is hard.
The body twists, betrays,
Turns in on itself and beats
An unsteady rhythm. The heart
Cannot dance. No smiles
To greet us. We deal in numbers
And in stages, the depths
Of disease. I am a three:
Odd and unwelcome.
Yet your stroke is even,
Calm, the thirty-count stroke
Of your palm to my arm.
Warm. You would save
Me if you could. Charge
On white horse, bear
The day's remedy. My hero,
My savior, my lover, one
Who loves this other. This
Pale and tired bird who
Rests in your arms. You
Hold me tight, tighter,
As this moment may
Be the last.

sadi ranson-polizzott

Sadi Ranson-Polizzotti

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The following comments are for "the day's news"
by sadijane

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