41 Don't touch me with your tongue to take me in, Don't swallow salt from waves beneath my skin, Don't hold me in your mouth to taste my eyes, And donít drink water from this mouth of mine, Don't glide from my high hills down to my heels, Don't hide me in your holy reed of ribs, Don't squeeze my apples with your hungry knees, Don't strike me with your tongues, grind with your teeth -- But let me dwell in ears of your warm shells, Sleep in your eyes on feathers of blue bells.







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IRENE C∆SAR
Confined Verse
Collected Poems

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