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Page:The Collected Poems of Hart Crane.djvu/48

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And the lewd trounce of a final muted beat!
We flee her spasm through a fleshless door....

Yet, to the empty trapeze of your flesh,
O Magdalene, each comes back to die alone.
Then you, the burlesque of our lust—and faith,
Lug us back lifeward—bone by infant bone.