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THE MORNING WITHIN DOORS

Posted on Oct 25, 2011 by in rose and fell | 0 comments

SAND

she has taken a single step. she has not plunged into cold water. she has spoiled her frocks and burned her fingers till she must cry. she ought to retire to bed, upon a mattress, and keep perfectly quiet till everything has vanished. she will not think, she will not be too explicit: indeavouring, slaving, turmoiling, sighing, groaning, hoping and begging. the source of her anxiety: quite small and green. it is a mass of jelly. she does not pretend. she conceals her purpose. overlapping, pushing, indenting, enfolding, budding, pressing, and curving. she suspends the ring above her pillow from a hair off her head. she writes within a circle her vow. she writes beyond the circle a name. she says her own name three times; she places the name under her tongue. her dreams explain; her dreams, too confused for memory. the name dissolves in her saliva. this is a clear sign. she has made a dreadful mess. certain fears are suggested; she is terribly afraid of snakes. she ought to cry at once, her face turned to blue.

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