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Thoroughly Married
My dreams still can’t keep their
hands off you.
It’s nearly thirty years now, and
I’m still putting
your name to ink and lost in the mystery of
your
touch. Strange how the sweet history
between
us has become more than half the matter.
Your kiss is still the flint of meaty
poems, and your
smile continues to be the key that opens
metaphors
like small and perfect lockets. It is
not so much
that we are one soul in two bodies.
It is more.
We are the nest for the other’s
journey.
This is no fragile bond. It is deeper
than bone.
We have buried each other’s dead,
wandered
great deserts seeking fine and shining
kingdoms
only to learn they were always within us,
and locked
ourselves away from the world when it got
too busy.
Sometimes this dance deals more with energy
than
with form. We are as willing to be
with one another
as rain is eager to gladden the leaves and
lawn.
At night, when we read ourselves to sleep,
I revel
in knowing we’ve lost the fear and
need of the hunt.
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