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Irises : Li-Young Lee poem / Pierre-Narcisse Guérin

1. In the night, in the wind, at the edge of the rain, I find five irises, and call them lovely. As if a woman, once, lay by them awhile, then woke, rose, went, the memory of hair lingers on their sweet tongues. I’d like to tear these petals with my teeth. I’d like to … Continue reading →