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2 poems and a dead man
two poems are lying beside
a dead body.
one, whipped with weary eyes,
frail frame and an armless body
disconsolate about dying.
the other, a fine poem.
full of life, extant
cheery about the deceased
and his disconsolate poem.
betwixt and between,
there’s the rattling of bones.
the dead body moves.
leonell echa
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