has been created
has erupted
between us, she and I.
Breath is pulled away,
eyes open only to dilate again and again,
our tongues become together a fugue.
Our tongues become knots,
our knots become words,
our words become.
We come.
Our words rise above us
and bless themselves
by blessing us
by becoming.
so pretty...and for some reason this poem reminds me of ice-box lemon pie.
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