I know the Summer-stained streets must fill, twice—
With Milk, with Flood—of Moon—and Blight.

Result: a wrist smiles weakly, unable to lift.
Result: a tooth grays, a lost tongue, a lisp.

 

Later, we will notice a vast communication
between separate selves. We will learn
in the colors of our lover’s body

“I did not think my posing for him
would reveal anything not already known.
After all, we are passionate lovers