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Fado

by James Walton (follow)
A wine glass hums to the memory
of your lips
lost my tongue
in your pomegranateness
aromas are veils
of languages over rooms no longer
familiar with dialects
where short sheeted restlessness scries
out vague tunes
a foreigner in the streets
of our house
the portuguese guitar summons
hands to hallelujah
earrings stirred for a pic
that unplayed chord knows

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