deepundergroundpoetry.com
destroyed, renewed
Something like a category fault...
a crease in what should be
the logical cleaving
of masc to femme.
But as the cold of '55
becomes the spring of '56
I'm folding into you
and it feels utterly perfect,
in those moments between
the tentative movements
of hands on arms
and when I spin to push back into you -
the record player singing its old songs -
and when the last thrust leaves us both
destroyed, renewed, destroyed, renewed.
a crease in what should be
the logical cleaving
of masc to femme.
But as the cold of '55
becomes the spring of '56
I'm folding into you
and it feels utterly perfect,
in those moments between
the tentative movements
of hands on arms
and when I spin to push back into you -
the record player singing its old songs -
and when the last thrust leaves us both
destroyed, renewed, destroyed, renewed.
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