On a furling bolt of vapor
In light draped on the river ,
we fall in love from elsewhere,
and fit our alabaster shells together.
Now with power over human bodies
we curl away from youth like cooling ferns.
The green hills are farther run,
the leaves more crisply done.
They fly to us, our fingers
interlace under an unending sun.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
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