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I used to feel God's presence.
It was just steam
From the hot water
It was just adoration, feigned
From land, well tended
From the most beautiful garden
In all of the world
And the earth
That breathed
In its early belly
Which rose
Which fell
Back and forth
Like the stretch and pull
Of Cupid's bow
Lived by a deity of its own
Of swallows nesting in branches tall
Of poppies pushed vague
By children and dogs, blasé
By the diamond sky
In the high afternoon
And by the moonlight
Who tongue kissed each bed
With all of its sincerity
Steam
Artful deception
Sleight of hand
Had no place
Written by Nia Di Gennaro
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