Dear John:
Do you?
I do.
I did.
I'm done.
Overdone.
Undone. Metaphysically strained.
And I need a thermometer to check my rarity.
I'm developing a crispness
And drying out, in want of basting.
I'm done, John.
Sincerely,
Mary Donne
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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