The
vaguely proud innuendos of your hair
Not
to mention the snarky humility of your lips
The
pause and sudden silence of your blue eyes
Heard
from such a distance and snow in them
The
bitterest of all victories apparent in your fingers
Such
timorous and slightly tragic poems each one
Your
sudden rain-creased words hating exiles
Detesting
heart-thieves but taking their royalties
Nonetheless O how the excited shore slips
Sexily into the reluctant yet still hungry ocean
And
it’s funny how beautiful Sibelius sounds
Here
on the edge of this western sea so fresh
So
utterly truthful as if pointlessly graceful birds
Refuse
to fall into the sweet water of longing
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