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her
voice
driven
in the dark
inconveniently
the preacher switches on the light


the
rape
she’s not
forgotten
memory of pain
his breath on the back of her neck


she
stood
with head
in her hands
she dreamed his severed
from the body that took her soul


sweet
word
speaking
a gospel
he makes for himself
for himself, he takes what he needs


a
tree
one leaf
hanging still—
barely end of fall
still now she waits for winter’s end


He
looks
at her
with dead eyes
thus the tragedy
that born her love in deep hatred


in
her
stirrings
an ancient
rival who would come
take aim at the darkness she lives



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