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A poem: Incision

The hairs stood on my neck when,

At a jazz recital at half past seven

Tapping my foot quite amicably

And smiling at my singing friend

I heard the unequivocal cry spew out of her mouth,

Breaking dam walls and hearts

Halleluia

Halleluia

She sang

And all pretence was torn

My heart, cut with a precise incision,

Throbbed for its loss.

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