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Gabriella
There is no wind.
Smackfucked Adelaide explodes her warmth
to the cloudless chill heaven,
and when the warmth goes
there is no sound or sign.
The half moon’s snapped in frozen blue.
I got no trouble with you, gone Gabriella.
Gone good is where you are.
But not one breath of wind?
No cloud? No sound? No sign?
Only half a moon?
Philip White
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