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Morphing into a wall with an open slit
 charmed with error, erecting a birch
 from the body-swept bed a deer rising,
    shrinking with daylight,
      waiting for the mind-taxes
           to kick in, that plow an angle
            into one's belly,
        so that one can contain whole
           the ballet of frivolous misery
              snail-history of a kiss
                                 left to burn
         printed on the third rail
                   like a brand crucifix