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In the light of your eyes
no light can save me except the lamp of my body.
With which legs can I join your dance
while all my body's flutes are dumb?
Why did words pour?
And the pouring of silence . . .
how can I erase it from my body?
Everything in me is erased if I am erased.
Nothing remains after the body's erasure.
Except it: My body.