Chancer
27 September 2009
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Niall Campbell
boy, you know nothing of love,
nothing of how it’s proved:
there’s the kiss; the kiss
returned; the nights awake,
consoling what needs consoled;
and then there’s you.
And I swear, by her,
that should we ever meet
I’ll prove my serious heart
by your broken teeth,
the blood on your red, red lips.
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