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154 The Singing School I saw one narrow as a blade in a man’s black suit I saw one drop her pages on the floor and walk away from the microphone like a bullfighter turning his back on a bull I saw one with generous breasts in a floral print dress shift from one foot to the other while her body blushed all over I saw one in pain, in pain enough for ten strong women but she didn’t say a word about that pain, she went deep under the water and came back and she wasn’t alone I saw one who’s breasts were cut off and she sang anyway saying, “Nobody cut my throat yet” I saw one who mid-wifed the language of her tribe and taught everyone to dance to its music I saw one comb through history sifting the dust for rings, for broken links of gold, for altar pieces and the altars, too, for the shapes of animals and birds in conversation and divinity in the tracks of deer 155 I saw one in her coffin strewn with roses and lilies, the narrow heaven she made rising around her perfumed and dense as diamonds I saw them in their labor and I saw them laugh, and all of them, all of them have passed down Sappho’s street in Eressos and stood at the beach where the dark rock stands, where if you look carefully you can see a lioness about to rise and go ...

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