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Once, I

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Once, I
was seven Spanish bullocks in a high meadow,
sleepy and nameless.

As-ifness strange to myself, but complete.

Light on the neck-nape
of time
as two wings of one starling,

or lovers so happy
neither needs think of the other.

Source: Poetry (April 2013)

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This poem originally appeared in the April 2013 issue of Poetry magazine

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Once, I

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