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18 How to Bring Beauty to Such Acts Dante, but this isn’t the Paradiso, the needle sinking again, me in my nightgown again, hopeless Beatrice saying come out of the bathroom, the baby kicked and the day grows vivid.There is blood, minutest of valentines in the sink, on the buckling floor. Where is grace? Not in these hands, but somewhere between the dwindling soul and the body’s great need, in here with the worn-through bedcover, out there with the goats in the yellow field, where there is no sign of rain. I want fire, just a small flame to lick at the edges, to see this life go final and exquisite as smoke. ...

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