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MIRIAM SAGAN

Eclipse of the Moon at Hotel St. Marie

 

you lean from the balcony

trying to see the moon

 

then make love to me as

if we had just met

 

by cold morning,

through a window you see the disc

 

covered by darkness

like the slow street mimes

 

whose motion impresses as stasis

drip of a fountain persists in the courtyard

 

mossy stone nude half drapes herself

and the artificial pool

 

beneath green umbrellas

and a palm tree

 

seems real.

 

 

 

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