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Small Elena

Of shrunken limbs

And ample sex

Who

Having filched

The atrophied

Woman-smile of your mother

Scatter it

On the eating unseen

Tuberculous

Inaudible hands

On the counter-pane

It might have been

Impossible

Fingers should be so long

Being so tiny

But Nature

Needing no microscope

In her laboratory

Found it just as easy

Marshalling imperceptible

Hosts

To bone of your arm

Among overlapping of lint

Attaining a dignity

Unworthy of your years

Two and a half!