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| Sand-eel |
| The cool lashings of waves a taste of cider your eyelashes A flaying of sand-- --your hair on a flesh of moon lapped by the sun i bathe borne by the drifts of your chest of sedge lustral and raveled we taste the salt We are the apple of the night |
| "Don't close your eyes as i turn into dust" ~eels |
| Copyright � 2001- 2008 by Sara Mazzolini |