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Wednesday, April 21, 2010


Saline meniscus we secrete
as our limbs wrap, knit and attune,

our rough drafts left behind on the sheet:
sealing by stretching the space between

my flank and your flank, my chest and yours,
the extra space of a liquid pinch

that comes away in our hands and pours
us out of each other, the mingled drench

we tip out through the tips of our tongues
and down the gutters of palms and spine;

the pool of us gathered by shoulders and hips
we each collect, that insists as it clings

I am your outside now and you mine:
the sweat we lick from and leave on our lips.

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