Between us
white alabaster looms,
a fortress cracked
by the small mercy of exchanged breaths.

For seconds
(a river of jade moments)
I speak your name
as a sculptor might shape love;
cutting the edges to a precise beauty,
draping vowels
down your legs and ankles
to where my whisper dies.

Meet me by the mulberry,
and we will stain our lips with wine,
engaging subtle repartee
about everything, and nothing at all.


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