by Allan Peterson

When together our heads have one eye
When we are coming true in our thoughts
heating each other with breaths
joined at the hips Siamese
or wild as if we cannot get loose
When our tongues make silent words
in each other’s mouths we can say
we are inexpressible

When I bend back with love
the vines and strings of the knee-joint
sash and balance at the hip
stressing the bearings with the knack of habit
and my face so close like I go blind
trying to see you I exhibit love’s patent model

And when we will be pickled in the sun
and aged like a marinade
our fingers crepe from a soak-bath
it will be the same I think
It will take that long for me
to be unable or tire of this

The cars will be still
wearing the roads away
My brain will still call down
to my lower body when I see you
like the nautilus to its past
locked closets down to the spine tunnel
filled with snake-in-the-bones

I will wring out the pituitary to act
again the naked compact of caring
nerve strings going back in time
the soul for some in the backbone
running out when the locked bones let go

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