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Black Poplar

two flightless birds on a branch

a wood-saw working in my hand

you trying to stop me sawing

hoping to keep us on dry land


below us runs a deep rushing river

if the branch is severed, we drown

I shrug off your efforts to stop me

Though it will bring both of us down


the branch is nearly sundered

I can hear it creak and groan

your hysteria makes me angry

I w...

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black poplarbranchsawicy riverdrowndepressive

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