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his country is calling me
libby hart
and when i say his country,
i mean the sweet, sad earth of line and skin. track of bone, of limb.
his country is calling me.
and when i say his country,
i mean that haunt of eyes, cliff of smile. lea of uncut hair.
i mean that crowded city of heart. his 1 of soul.
i mean blood roar. i mean lush beat.
each hammer and drum.
its heat -- a chant, a spell.
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