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8 January 09
.
It was a dream
In which my greater self
Rose up before me
Accusing me of my life
With her extra finger
Whirling in a gyre of rage
At what my days had come to.
What,
I pleaded with her, could I do?
Oh what could I have done?
And she twisted her wild hair,
And sparked her wild eyes,
And screamed as long as
I could hear her.
This. This. This.
-Lucille Clifton
.
.
— Publisher
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