Husks & Shall
fill brittle
tradition in with perhaps --
mouth a silk cliche
waiting
above
its twin
halves of lingual roof -- a monster
of peaks
feeling gone immediately
soft
landings as -- is your
kiss
me --
suspended lean as zoo
hyphens
along the buttery hyena
length
of
your only
lux
skin
to soffer with care
or shall
this one ancient
cicada
hollowed
still humming
hallowed
of sycamore bark
be left to its dead
clinging? --
a husk is now
perched
at eye
& rhythms
all mothers
tried
to warn us !
against sounding cool as
drumhead blue
in fine
silk [they say you have sent me
& I see it is true
in your letters,
this exact
blue]
in case of utter loss
or
your terrific Platonic
kind
love
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