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Heartlands All the tall women are dancing with their hair in their teeth, in their mouths. From the lit circumference rivers break, and break their banks. These read like a map: Sweet Georgia and Niger with her pale scar. Marked off, and off limit to any man's mark they conquer me, whispering: this is no Everest, remember your manners. And the night waits, sharp, behind the door. Soon, or later, its eternal invitation. Not yet. Not now when I am moving in a deep warmth beneath a face pearled and fiery—Oahu, cooling after birth. 58 Heartlands All the tall women are dancing with their hair in their teeth, in their mouths. From the lit circumference rivers break, and break their banks. These read like a map: Sweet Georgia and Niger with her pale scar. Marked off, and off limit to any man's mark they conquer me, whispering: this is no Everest, remember your manners. And the night waits, sharp, behind the door. Soon, or later, its eternal invitation. Not yet. Not now when I am moving in a deep warmth beneath a face pearled and fiery-Oahu, cooling after birth. ...

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