Thursday, April 26, 2012

w.m.l.l. 7


quiet was not assaulted
it was alive & sung praises      hands         lit altars.

took his shirt off            so did I          we wanted to be in our bodies—



the wind        never knew a man
who could look into my vulnerability and stand still

the next day i watched him reading in the sunny nook of our house
brown pant legs rolled out like  coast

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