Beneath
this tearing
of quilts and sheets
sucked by teeth
and cheekblack
nights
are two un-forgiven
mouths bled in,
a stillness
of hand, foot,
steeliness
of air.
We are not
in this half
kept storm.
Only as we
untake what has been
crushed on,
a strain in
the forgotten,
into a voice
fallen
or gone;
shoulder-
will, closed eye.
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