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conception - france

I can tell you the exact day.


When you and I joined


And I felt the delight of conception


And the Loire earth breathed


Deeply, sighing, and the Pressigny


Bell chimed as I called out


Your name a thousand times


And the French afternoon


Came in through the windows.


Later, we walked to Montemarte


Where we wrote and I bought


Silk slips that fluttered at my knee,


How later you marveled at my breasts.


How ripe I had grown!


Such pink to my cheeks.


This Paris was good for me.


All week, street after street,


I lit candles at every church.


Vowed I would stay. Had we


Remained it would have been.


I'm sure of it. But we took


To the plane as we had to.


Later, by months, the American


Air choked with some dark, fetid


Poison and I felt all the goodness


Cramp and fight its way out.


No mother i. Again I return,


The pale, tired girl, reaped


Of fertility while elsewhere


The death-bell tolls, the Eiffel


Bends at her knee,  cries


To see such grief.



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