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Sunday, August 23, 2015

Devil Dancing

Like the tourmaline
Twisting my neck
Devil dancing
Has lost its lustre.
So I bundle my vanities
In carry-ons and fly east.
A grovelling ghost
Grieving dissatisfaction,
A lack of pension, and
Seeking propitiation in
The original noose
That hung like rain and
Unleashed the rage
That sent me fleeing
In the first place.

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