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Her heart like an ancient orogeny

And how I even to scale its

Hoary summits, inhospitable crags,

Let alone pierce to the root of the mountain

And find within

the heat

the softness?

I say to her, “It’s not enough just to love life,”

And she rebuts,

“You know love only like

The astrologer knows the stars,

the winding planets,

Asteroids,

Deepest space and frigid voids.”

At the same time she grins.

I take for a fragment of regard

The sudden softness of

Her eyes.

How often she will fool me so,

I the whipped and kibbled dog

Whimpering on th’ electrified floor,

And my master my all and only,

Noting figures in a book.

Suleiman Razumovsky

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