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Milky Blue
having yet to pay
the price for awakening
in this world
I still wait to hear
a nightingale's song
in a dream of him
I leap down
whole mountainsides
as if the earth itself is too
rare a thing to touch
"if I tell you the truth"
only you and I say this . . .
holding back nothing
petals of the hyacinth
open to the world
milky blue—
our last hours together
the veins in my wrist
return like rainwater
to the sea
morning twilight
finds me alone
with this animal
that is my body—
blood, flesh, heat
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