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Amelia
Fielden
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your silence
seems inpenetrable– this time I won't be seduced into speaking first the warm light on persimmon boughs over white walls . . . 'falling in love again, I can't help it a bronze Kannon curling slender fingers beckons me into her ancient past at the hill-top temple the scarlet branches of maples mirrored in a pond suddenly set a-sway by flocks of white ducks releasing yellow leaves one by one, the mother tree lives another autumn– kiss me, and don't look back
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