In shut up drawers I keep memories of you;
like some keep letters and other hidden things,
they open rawly like bone and other white things.
Cigarettes, loose pearls an old kid glove, I browse
through them when I feel most alone;
feel raw like bone,
like Christmas and snow in Virginia
and other white things.
In shut up drawers I keep memories of you;
like some keep letters and other hidden things.
In every one it is Christmas
with an enormous tree and a thousand lights
like snow in Virginia
lightly sprinkled over moss.
I browse through them when I feel most alone;
feel raw like bone,
like Christmas and snow in Virginia
and other white things.
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