you’re cold, button up,
batten down the hatched
glass
these mean talking ghosts
offer
little anonymity to
the marrowfat
of shoulder high memories
sister in all but time
an “a star” in the morning
yet the many delights,
ours but for the cleansed
eyes
and thighs, came as you
sounded
memory in your truth’s
thunder
blackened through evidence
guilty by my whence
exchanged
I command the devil’s songs
but
am I just faded delight?
“swing more” she demands,
washed
guilty thrice through her
heels
and laced heart and slumber
now standing
in strength washed on a
once
cracked spit drawn open
mouthed
and verdict free
poured closer to the two
hole cluster
the depth of a friendship
must fight back
lyrically
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