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A POEM OF ATTRITION I do not know if the color of the day Was blue, pink, green, or August red. I only know it was summer, a Thursday, And the trestle above our heads Sliced the sun into black and gold bars That fell across our shiny backs And shimmered like flat snakes on the water, Worried by the swans, shrieks, jackknives, And timid gainers-made bolder As the day grew older. Then Pooky Dee, naked chieftain, poised, Feet gripping the black ribs of wood, Knees bent, butt out, long arms Looping the air, challenged The great "two 'n' a half" gainer . I have forgotten the sound of his capped Skull as it struck the block . . . The plop of a book dropped? The tear of a sheer blouse? I do not know if the color of the day Was blue, pink, green, or August red. I only know the blood slithered, and Our silence rolled like oil Across the wide green water. 51 ...

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