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This was the first time I knelt
and with my lips, frightened, kissed
the lit inwardly pink petaled lips.
It was like touching a bird’s exposed heart
with your tongue.
Summer dawn flowing into the room parting the
curtains—the lamps dimming—breeze
rendered visible. Lightning,
and then soft applause
from the leaves . . .
Almost children, we lay asleep in love listening to the
rain.
We didn’t ask to be born.
