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        Study of a Housewife




        I've not often taken to fits of this nature--
        Fits of glowing contentment--
        When all the stars are more than glorious.
        I commence to pairing off my nails to nubs
        And threaten to crop my hair.
        I strain to throw off the excess
        That encumbers me in melancholy.
        I would strip down to skin and run,
        Screaming exultantly, through the night,
        Feeling a smile strangely shaping
        My lips around each bellow.
        I feel I could cry diamonds,
        Shout rainbows, and laugh out
        Silver streamers to adorn the world.
        But I sit quietly; a study of composure
        As I rampage thus in my mind,
        A queer smile shaping itself around a sigh.


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