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What does she want?

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What does she want
when her bones crave yellow light,
deepest reds and golds
that know, sweet and undefended,
fall is the best season,
even unto winter’s wicked gifts?
Bravely give in the knowing.
Bravely take in the feelings
of horizontal laughter.

Dive headlong to bottomless leaf piles.
Forget dog bites, rubbish and runny noses hiding there,
stuff of our mothers’ breath
we repeated to our small ones.
Color and mystery in feathered light.
Contented moments drift.
Leap to laugh and laugh to leap.
Hold on, let go, play with me
Until chambers darken.

What does she look for?
Possibility–ready-made and hand crafted,
that slides down easy
and refills again,
Hands are wise and memories short.
Lovers can build libraries.
Idle shelves miss answers.
Mythology, philosophy, even periodicals don’t bind.
It’s all in the contract.

Parties of the first and second part:
Whereof two bile ducts agree to be stingy;
two hearts to pour generous;
four ears pledge to listen more than two tongues wag,
telling tales this way and that.
Deep within the forest of two heads
trees hide gremlins, light and wisdom.
Each mind tends all desires
and tangles reason with love.

Memory sings a sometimes note.
I will hold your youth, your laughter,
your sex and your silly
beyond tired, sad, stumbled weeds.
And you, please? Cradle laughter, hope, and courage
in case of sunless skies soaked in fear.
We’ll polish off a crucible of patience,
squeeze blisters and drain injustice,
to sing sweet songs of idle mornings.