Gwendolyn quotes

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Hating you shall be a game
Played with cool hands
And slim fingers.
Memory will lay its hands
Upon your breast
And you will understand
My hatred.
All eager-lipped I kissed the mouth of Death.
I want to hear the chanting
Around a heathen fire
Of a strange black race.
I want to feel the surging
Of my sad people's soul
Hidden by a minstrel-smile.
Something of old forgotten queens
Lurks in the lithe abandon of your walk,
Oh, little brown girl, born for sorrow's mate,
Keep all you have of queenliness,
Let it be stairways, and a splintery box
Where you have thrown me, scraped me with your kiss,
People are coming. They must not catch us here
Definitionless in this strict atmosphere.
My wife never quite forgets to put flowers in vases,
Bizarre prints in the most unusual places,
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