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Slave to
Translation
My poetry's all cliche.
New words, to be sure,
but cliche all the same.
I never thought I would
have to search
through forests of doubt
for the words.
I thought they would stay
tingling in my blood
like magic,
like alcohol, intoxicating.
I thought they would be there
always.
They're gone now,
And I remain
trying to translate a poem
into words.
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