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Blistered is what we were, I know, and then soothed
though not often enough. I scraped raw,
I scalded, I cooed, I gauzed.

                                                The night-blooming jasmine
swirls through the sick room.
Billy Holiday for psalms, peacocks for their flair
which is teal….teal and sighted.

You: the steel that nothing, not even the peach, dissolves.
You, who have been the massive heart that
pounds harder
despite the skips.
For you.

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