in the seam of one human flower.
What I've halved, what I have
to give must be enough.
The silver skies
that call me their offspring
will not reject my soul.
In the green threads
of dusky hills
where we lay our forms
for swinging chains and silky penetration
the fleshy curlicues
a dancing skeleton leaves on the earth
gathering around our path of stone.
In the blue light
of an unknown time's peeling door
our kisses and their handiwork
stem folded time
for hoops of synthetic vine
erasing hours.
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