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The word came after me, then hid each time
I turned to look at it.
It breathed in the hedge(树篱,障碍). I could hear it bite
and snap the air.
I feared the woman with slicked-back hair
sitting on a bar stool,
her back to the dance floor, a beer in her hands.
Disco drove the word away
but it came back: Bulldyke, Bulldagger.
What did the word want
dangerous butch
striding through Kenmore Square
uncamouflaged?
In leathers, the word leapt
18th century grillwork
on the Boston Common and led the parade
around the city,
of a new millennium6. First
I had to hate her;
then I had to hurt her; the rest of my life,
I ate from her hand.
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