She lay in the bathing tub
    Fondling her silver breasts with a cold knife
    Carving the sky with her razor tongue
    Spilling purple protoplasmic fishes
        into the dark night sky
         into the sere September

    Brushing her hair with my footsteps
    Baring the pool of her memory
    Singing her milky enchantment
        out of the morning of winter
         into the fluttering silence of a kiss

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