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Dust
Kathleen Spivack

she wanted rain
as release from her longing

she wanted rain
sluicing her breasts after love

when the great thirst
filling, leaf-brown, swept

and she sobbed, o yes,
and the water beat down

and bent her. she wanted
violence, over-abundance

flowing in gullies
up over the lip

she wanted rain
easing her like a child

while the trees, eager,
thrust out their roots:

the earth drank.
she wanted the dank

smell of wry dust
soaked after storms. she

sought virulent summer-
green satisfactions.

 
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