This Word

I will come whenever she calls,
especially if she says
I love you,
especially that,
even if she swears
and promises nothing
but love.

The light from her
covers every
thing equally,
even my body throws no shadow
it too is consumed with light.

But this word – love
the shape of her lips
as she says it
well, this word grows and grows
inside me
it shakes itself, begins
to eat this paper
until we two shine in
its transparent throat and still
are riven, are glistening, hip and thigh,
her loosened hair
which knows no hesitation.

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