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sunday poem (by L.C.)

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the_unmade_bed

Because of a few songs
wherein I spoke of their
mystery,
women have been
exceptionally kind
to my old age.
They make a secret place
in their busy lives
and they take me there.
They become naked
in their different ways
and they say,
“Look at me, Leonard
look at me one last time.”
Then they bend over the bed
and cover me up
like a baby that is shivering.

sources: Mr. Leonard Cohen (1999), recorded on Dear Heather (2004), printed in Book of Longing (2006). Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, p. 208. image: painting “The unmade bed” by Joan Griswold (2001).

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