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I KNOW YOU’VE WRITTEN MY POEMS
Silence
greets me at bed’s edge
sinking to
jar’s bottom
too slippery
to scale
Keys down to
two
where at
least a few used to jingle
round my hip
with each step
a new one
replaced one lost
trades could
be made to infinity
but without
frames doors disappear
All rooms
available
no room is
easiest with keys
still are
they missed so
II
My death
inevitable
you let the
old man in
who cries
for your nipple
sucks hot
air and dreams
and here are
your eyes
slate gray
from brown
once more in
my house
my arms
don’t work
where once
they caressed
careless and
footloose
where kisses
were flesh
and blood
rose to meet you
you continue my poem
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