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TheLove of a Woman - Peter Malakoff
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The Love of a Woman
I take her head and
stroke her face
touching her gently
my hands belong to no one
I watch her
semblance soften
We come back
from the dead
of the unfeeling
I swoon with her eyes
falling backwards
onto our bed
We swell with the rocking
of ancient rhythms
that do not know
our
names
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