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Blood Flower

There could be a little being  
When her showy matter was beset by trauma  
I called and left the house  
You kiss by brownest    nearest phone  
Bit the hell plant off a little  
And she watched–even so    she left: a leak
Lost light    then house    A simmer wakes  
The sound it makes    the brimming of a fountain pond
Hereafter    fewer share our summer roof
That is how it stays    We two have safety  
The stars    they roll    to the upper land.
Nearby    a wanderer    where marmots beckon  
He has cupped foam brimming in his open hand

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