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Kites

On hillocks, us two,
Just killing time,
Racing up slopes,
Letting out the twine.
 
Mine, taken by the air first,
Pulsing in your current,
Whilst yours, putting along,
Already half-spent.
 
Then, lurching upwards,
Yours meeting mine, bowing,
Showing signs of struggle,
Rowing as they entwine.
 
And as they entwine
And tangle, fighting each other
With us below, pulling apart,
They make to hover
 
As those who have been lovers
With tales of caution, will—
Having known the covers fall,
Their souls unsanctioned—
 
Know the exposing wind
Around which you will be found
Out as it winds you in
Into the ground.
 
Up the mound, us as two—
Backtracking and unclutching—
Battle with the fall and gain,
As all lovers do,
Their arms outstretching,
Playing a child’s game.

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