http://allpoetry.com/Nicole%20Hanna
Midnight. Bedtime. Deliverance.
tal-like
curled in the warm lips of sheets-
the cracked mouth of at least seven
dark Arabians swaddled, a camel caravan
three days deep in the desert. The center
in its palm, struggling and wet,
hefted as a Jupiter mount
below the left index.
The static of my house coat sparks
like May, its last great lightning, and the moon
beckoning one flesh to one flesh.
I am serious
when I say: let's strip off our clothes
pull at my hair and your hair like long
coconut fibers. Lean into me, subside
in my skin, hook your fingers
in my swift and flowing water.
Check her out.
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