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What Angels?
what angels they?
they that always seem
to be looking
the other way
while in absentia
those robed in blight
and grey
of beak pick the bones of
our grief
genuflecting promises
on the never-never
of a day
after tomorrow that none
will ever see
what angels they?
they that can no longer
play
Sunday 16th December 2012 2:13 am
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