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I could never let go my husband my wound my sleep but they were surrendered from me my books them pleasing you/ disappointing you the desire for men gazing feeding the cursive characters I my you in chalk across the white-lined blackboard surrendered from me when I couldn’t breathe so. The Basket House The basket house: to shelter me inside the night cave the emptiness where the other one holds me nurses me in the emptiness, new poems 19 ...

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