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49 Love To your feet my heart is as the bridge whose walk was inundated I fell from favor like the dog who could not tell his name to the new owner and his previous master has died in some accident I failed myself in securing me a miserable death and in composing an obscene lay that instead of the white kerchief you could have used to dry a teardrop Ashes fill up my shoes and my feet are missing Love is not a standard nor arms nor an oath to be lightly assumed 50 Ashes fill up my heart and a foreign toxin Love is a snare filled up with ashes and my two hands I wasted myself in wait of showers that would wash away my feet, my heart and my hands that you might make of them a memorial and call it love ...

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