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Waiting to fill you, buckets,
One morning it was afternoon
Then evening, the same.
One time I filled you
And carried you to the apartment
In which a dog was sitting
I forget its name he drank thirstily
And well I brought you
To other places too with always
A strain, hurting my arms
For you are heavy you
Are heavy with water filled
Whether it was on Leyte
That I carried you
To fellow soldiers
Or up to the blankets, from the sea,
To splash on some
Who were too hot. It makes
For giddiness to
Concentrate on you
Concentric buckets – senseless –
You lend your sides to the soul.

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