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The air closes in on me, And my footsteps have the trembling of Someone who is afraid of being arrested red-handed. I have been shivering in my corner for so long that He started sharing my table And the nightly sheets.

My companion On my chair Pats my shoulder When I show resentment.

Wherever I am It is like weighing one’s foot Before it becomes a footstep.

BANIPAL 53 – SUMMER 2015 25

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