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My friend said something
about poetry
‘it was words singing’, something like
‘emotive association’,

but that was a glance of cleavage past,

a smile and fiddle of sandal,
the way

her golden skin
shined with sweat till
it dropped,

right in the dark valley
of her frilly green
and orange dress,

cool and
open-topped,
as if to let the air in
for a slow ...