To make a love poem
by Robin Turner
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draw down some stars
dipped in nightsky blue.
Bleed a little.
Bleed a lot.
Let your page of stars catch
each droplet.
Now fold—no—
crumple—the paper.
Form it into a ball
that resembles a world.
Where blue meets blood
your poem blooms,
that field of strange flowers,
wild riot of violet and fierce purple.
You have to flatten
the paper to see it—
your love poem of beautiful bruise.
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