River: Morning

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Cruel river
knows each time
I come to brood
over her roaring waters
each time I come
to her deafening banks
to gleam my dreams
over the plump flanks of her warm body
each time I come
to pour last of my life’s salt
in the ringing gorges
of her sonorous frame,
a bone breaks
in my smoldering chest
and a wrinkle appears
across the shriveled leaf of my life.

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