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JAMAIS ON STRESSE

de Mário Laginha

My hands are useless
They serve no purpose
But to gesture
To caress and cook
Yah, it’s so easy for me to bless
Any beam of light
That glow past my window
Allows it

Oh, beauty beyond words
Colors reflected upon a single solitary tear
On my flushed face
The wings of a blow-fly
And soap bubbles
The back of your hands
Glory and grace
Sublime
Iridescent
Sublime

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