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When he runs his fingers
When he runs his fingers through her hair he feels like undressing his alibis, flimsy as they are. Naked, he wants marriage. Clothed, alone.
Read moreI waited and you did come back
I waited and you did come back, but not just you. There was God and an Italian orphaned of good looks & humor. We all had tea. I wept later.
Read moreDoes our village love us?
Does our village love us? Not when I kiss you. Pioneering these affections, we forget how fragile our bones are. The only asylum, us away.
Read moreThe sheet is an unruly origami
The sheet is an unruly origami. What is that? Love? Desperation? A broke-winged bird? She pulls the folds apart, the bed stays deaf & mute.
Read moreIn this pre-dawn still sopping
In this pre-dawn still sopping in black, the crowing cocks usher me on. I walk until the road erupts into sand, then farther, into the sea.
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