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on the 8 we sprang from

crossing under the moon
still, or the rabbit knows

his blood a hurried poem on the tongue
for the next life he will arrive:

said, “in death we are neuter
we die so good we come alive”

the body weak from the friction of
the tight net of skin on the pregnant sky

the circle justified, content to lie
saw it plain on its side connected the lovers lie

on the 8 we sprang from
eye to eye

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