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Princess Counting Peas This springtime of eggs finishing tick, tick, tick, out of my body. Here is one for each of my lovers, here is one for tonight’s hanging planet, one for the best man I let go. None for the future. Now I will take a cot and put it by windows, take the sum of my many years’ months’ blood, wait on my thin mattress for the hard knowing to come of what I have got and done.  ...

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