Tuesday, February 03, 2009

pre-work semi-cirques

By, we pass--deft patterns worn
into floors parenthetically amiss,
inter-arced, un-touching, sore
from sleep in and out of comfort.

I get coffee, jam the bread.
You have shoes to tie. You pour
milk, grow stern. Beyond our bed
we swerve--our parallel tracks,

chores. All we do, we divide
into crossings. Wired domestic acts.
High risk--contact in this tight
time--so, dare we defy? kiss?

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