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Untitled (9/20/10)

August 15, 2011

when i’d thrown you
a volley of curses,
all i got back was sand,
the most righteous kind,
spit right between my eyes at that second sight-
how calm of you, controlled,
a lamp with a fatal dimmer switch,
your sharp hands starving with moth warmth,
of the same light you bring me each night

the tooth of the skin, the imprints,
folded with your gestures that answer
each turn of my wish,
fast blowing-back sincerity
to naiveté,
broke for kindness,

you make the deplorable conform
containing me with vices,
i’m ashamed you work

the only thing coming back
worth despising

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