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   t h e    e x p l a n a t i o n

--- C H R I S   M A R T I N

"this man is as
is a man" losing

what he meant 
to have arrived

at—berries torn
in alabaster, the two

minutes while you
wake beside him,

a silent bird 
full of black

feathers. He wants
what is impossible

to misplace.  Your 
face, his fingers

at your waist.

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