I've been a heavyweight lately. . . Time for a little lightness.
Here's an old love poem/a poem for love
She leans across the piano keys
switches the standard lamp
off; bare breast pale in the square
shade of a sleeping mountain.
He, too, is sleeping
a simple twist of coconut hair
captured in the copper lining
of her eye.
Inside, a lancewood-coloured carpet,
a pair of abandoned leather shoelaces
ancient as eels, record sleeves
clutching their sides with laughter.
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