Your knees left bowls of
Penitence cast in pale cushions
Marble bowls for begging
where white flakes smooth
reeded kopeks slipped out of your
handkerchief
Your revolution pressed against
The edge of a knife
In place of rifled steel
Verily
bid farewell
commanded
before you are thrown down
under damp
black wool
Verily
Your child slides his hands over your ears
To kiss you abideth alone
The soil you fertilize
May wet with his grace
And bringeth forth his fruit
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