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Salt I would not write a lament for you. A requiem for you, a song for you, I would not twine a remembrance for you. I do not think sweetly of you, of your Past kindness, past pleasures, past lies. I am not biding my time for you, not repining For you, you cause me no more the sleepless nights. For I have killed you. I have dried you up. Anger I have for you. With anger I have washed our pain. Sweet healing hanger opening my eyes on you. Seeing you, without the love blur in them. Tears now pillars of salt. Could call curses on you, spit on you, Laugh at you, but I just smile at you, Leave you alone. Climbed free of you Away from the power of you the hold of you The grip of you the hurt of you from Feeding the need of you, filling you. Bringing gifts to you. Bringing strengths To you. I turn my power on you, I shine that fierce light on you, you cannot Move or run. Caught in my full beam Only I can unleash this moving thing. You cannot understand it you cannot know it But you can feel it under your brain; Rabbit you, caught in my glare. Clear of you, clean of you Swept of you, no more bereft of you, My kisses not for you No words for you No sweet looks for you No look over my shoulder for you. Turn my heel on you, my back to you. I have no lack of you. It is you That is to be pitied now.
Beaver Row Press, Dublin,
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