66 To Douglas
Who is born from the womb returns in the womb.
Who has sucked from the breasts comes back to the breasts.
And his tides will pursue the flesh of his moon,
When the sun hides inside his smoldering flesh.
Who is born from the womb will burn in the womb,
When he hardens in pain and beats at the door
With his wood, in the dark, and falls in a swoon,
With his tide being high to pour on the burn.
With his tide being low, the moon is too high,
But her broken reflection aches in his waves --
He has breasts of his own and womanly eyes
And he does not escape the womb and the breasts.
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