ON A SUICIDE

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an early poem published in "Poems People Liked (2)"

There were long nettles, sharp thorns, a wasp’s sting;

bruises, cuts, a piece of paper torn, a broken ring;

grey trouser rags and still, pale lips.

We stood quietly. Long mute hours passed.

Someone scattered dark petals from dark, crimson flowers

upon his hair; he being ours.

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