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In This Very Bed
By Angela Davis Tartaglia

I wonder why you don't wake up.
Juice is dripping on you,
dripping on me, stinging my bare foot
where a thorn caught me
on my way up the neighbor's fruit tree
while you slept here.
My chest hurts with the weight of this,
and still you sleep.

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Document last modified on: 08/19/2002

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