A swamp rose out the darkness
Coton jaune from the loom
Sillage on my homespun
Of Indian perfume
The marsh was wide at midnight
A braid of long black hair
The feather of a water bird
The sacred vinéraire
I gathered my best medicine:
Dew of the swamp rose bloom
The highway cut straight through the marsh
Love is like a wound
I gave my best medicine
Under the flower moon
A bouquet of everlasting
He called Indian perfume
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