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Edgar Whitman Wilde
Poems
Jul 2012
*** Gender
This is for you
You nearly destroyed me
With frostbitten
Prowling fingertips
And never ending tongue
I will not be the map
Nor Constellation of your
Permissible presentations
Or improvised gender constraints
You do not know me
For I am all the possibilities
That are, that have gone before
That are yet to come
I am a trillion blazing suns gently burning
Written by
Edgar Whitman Wilde
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Luisa Sanchez
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