Friday, July 4, 2014


Intimacy! Such an impropriety!
Such a rude incursion of the yearning
for satiety in body and in soul.

Sometimes kissing is the goal --
hovering above like Death’s sweet dove,
ready to bestow a final blessing.

Sometimes when you’re dressing
ineluctably in front of me I can’t
not reach out to restrain your hand.

Intimacy! Illicitly imported and exported
in the heart. Dangerously
contraband. Inevitably art.


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