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Music for a Girl
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I hear their cries from windows
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whose dangling purples mark
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a strange place for tears, hear
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them pounding their chests
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to break open their remorse.
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They draped you in white, laid
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you in light on your mother�s bed
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where you were conceived,
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where you climbed when the fright
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of night stripped down your courage,
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and found comfort and safety
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and morning. I should pass,
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leave the grief to its proper mourners,
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those women who wrap you
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in the gauze of their sorrow, who cry
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and pray to the unrelenting stones
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they know so well and lead you,
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as you drift, to the kingdom
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with their pointing hands,
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but I listen still, and their sad
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singing rises with the prayer
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your sleeping eyes rise through
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their chanting, reaching out
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its pious and melodic arms
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to the stars that shine on them
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at night from fabled places.
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(first appeared in True Poet Magazine)
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