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Eliot
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Poems
Mar 2016
V
I absorb
each of your sounds
like the listener I am,
relishing them
Committing them to memory,
stored inside a vault
I dip a finger into
when I am feeling cold
or lonely -
and when I do recall
the contours of your face
or the cadence
of your nighttime whispers
I sit awhile
and feel no pain
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