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her eyes open, like two cupped
hands, water falling from that cleft
to pool in granite basin, percolate
through bowels, feeding caverned seas
salt crust deposits form, dry leaving
mineral marks to scar her face
some lock falls down, keys her
hand to brush, one hundred strokes
door knock, wakes and turns
knob in hand, real metal there
last dream, glance then open
sees small sky, eyes looking up
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