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To my darling Ulyssa — 


The albino llama 
Standing high and silent 
— not yet frightened —
In fresh snow
And no tracks coming
Or going, under the skeleton
Of our mulberry tree
You’re communing
Nude and steaming
Knee-deep in snow
As I run to you with your robe
Only to send the llama
Spooked and screaming
Into our chain-link fence
Again and again
Until it’s a hunk of raw hamburger
Hair and eyeballs
Mulled wine cutting through the snow
Nat King Cole distant on a neighbor’s
Late night stereo




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