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Rushed
in
to
hold
down
your
page,
and
now
I
sleep
'side
words
you
do
not
read
with
me.
I
hear
a
song
from
inside
the
maze
-
the
very
one
you
made.
You
shook
at
the
ivory
mantle.
As
a
poet,
I
knew
to
be
gentle.
When
you
have
a
child,
so
begins
the
braiding,
and
in
that
braid
you
stay.
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