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“30. They were quartering us in these streets” in “Musing”
30.
They were quartering us in these streets
Those centuries ago, and we hung on
To this tongue for long, but haltingly,
Like love itself, we try to get along
And make sounds that are as naked
As Eden. At night we all chase
Separate desires and meet in day
To try to muddle amid the penumbra
Making couplets of the great heave
Of breath and dust, the moon on our shoes
And creatures within us far more ancient
Than humans, les roches a different kind
Of love story. Plants all atrample;
The animals flee before our terror.
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