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thanksgiving poetry

meine Mutter unterrichtete mich daß jede Nacht
Himmel, die sie waren, ashen und nüchtern
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
ich bin eine Frau
eine Feder des Stahls
durch das Ufer durch das Meer
und so geht sie
aus dem funkelnden Meer heraus
ich wundere mich, wo Sie leben


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