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I.
Step aside, talk to me
man-to-man; show me,
Chief. You hide more
skillfully than I.
Part your legs.
Open your knowing
mouth: once again,
do not speak of sordid
urges we share
when danger's passed
and we come to
each other pretending
that partnership is
innocent. Our lives
have tangled in the silence
that my ears cannot
hear; we are not boys
nor brothers. The water
of your voice, your
liquid love,
has showered me,
heaving with tides
when no moon
rises. Under
your skin I lick
languid and raw.
Shame runs
deeper than joy.
Heave me out
drunk on whispers,
fight with me
again, share the cold
iron of my defenses.
Or, as you did before,
break my armor, give
tongue and control me.
Or suit yourself,
and leave.
II.
This latest fight -- is this love play
or real winter? Don't write my part
in fear. Let me lean into your leather scent
and touch beneath your clothes.
If I hold you as our bodies demand,
can we escape this web? If I could feel
the muscles flex in your thighs, perhaps
your anger wouldn't hurt
this much. Call me baby
a second time -- that's how close
we are, how close I am. Let me
break against you, ocean
to your rocky bluff.
Ride me and I'll carry you.
We can drown together,
or I can drown alone.
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