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This poem is taken from PN Review 36, Volume 10 Number 4, March - April 1984.

Kingdoms Alison Brackenbury
Gold, edged with green, the peacock's eyes
Ducked and shimmered past my head
To see the young Athenians
who could not leap the bull, lie dead.
Their ended screams still twist my sleep
become the staircase where I run,
of alabaster pale as milk
in courtyards where the black bull shone
...


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