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11 Couples Cutlery Midnight, the knives throw shadows with showy precision through my hesitant silhouette. Old umbrage has brought me here, unharmed, near missed, where the thrown blade was your own, untoward and very fast. Couples Even at odds, we manage to make two live cheaply as one. It’s not hard, by halves, to scrimp— save when the want splits the difference of our bodies as if passion were thrift. Fabliau In cahoots only here for a holiday, he tied me slick-backed, soft-hackled flies. 12 Wading lovely on the lam, catch-as-catch-can, O he horsed them in so pretty. I tangled my line in trees and he undid me, shiny fingered, all allure. Clothesline A delicate line of questioning: ask me if my emptiness equals all your clothes, if the light shows through your thinnest shirt to hurt, or if the wind blows your darks from the line by design sad, how they hold your shape enough to say enough for me to follow or let go, enough. Yes and no, I was better for it. Wishbone We pick sides, polar— the pull, unspoken. Division, it’s a start. Togetherness but a token to wish for the better part of something broken. ...

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