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Foggy Postcard.

 I walked with the sandals on that you had liked by the broken
bridge that you once pointed out. The covered linen blouse and lined-up
bellboys could see through the thin fabric
 that I loved you on those cloudy days-- clouds that had your teeth
marks in their edges-- until everything seemed normal to me.
Soon came the funeral for this absurd body of mine
and you already know how death is:
owner and lady of the space in white, usurper of the word,
then you receive this recent death and correspond. 

Translated By JP DANCING BEAR

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Author:Castellon, Blanca
Publication:Black Renaissance/Renaissance Noire
Date:Jun 22, 2008
Words:129
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