Monday, December 14, 2009

i was much too far out all my life, and not waving but drowning

Ms. Smith huddled beside me at night;
huddled beneath a mauvely soft afghan and
stroked my cheek with her thumb; my
very soft cheek the hair downy pale the hair:

baby soft the touches, she leaned beside me
she was moaning and (all the way out)
moaning softly hands drawn palms down,
over both my eyes the pressure sweet.
the pressure made a warm red glow streaked with violet
across my vision.

I lay in bed with her throat against my neck and:
she button clinking mumbled
'don't let them leave you so far out;
don't let the water the icepricking cold the ice
the water - '

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