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sappho
the girl with the ribbons
o sappho, o light, o object of envy,
that spans across so many a century:
muse and mother of the chords and lines
that withstand the final test of time.
by god’s gift your hand whetted your stylus
how may my pen close the space between us?
dare i make this show of arrogance,
i, but a bud of a new millennium?
yet the pang that stunned your moldered flesh
do i feel now in my living breast
how keenly does my pulse fall in step
with the tune that throbbed within your chest
we are the patron and vestal, to this art
two poles of history with one broken heart
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