come rocking toward me—O
and—O—your skin
turns moist beneath my touch
Oh, the whole of your belly
presses against the whole
of my belly—O! O! O!
and pleasure grows to toil, O,
feathers at the edge of fear
Ah!—and bliss
and mourning stream together
and you gather an immense
endeavor and your mouth
contorts and your throat
cracks and your back wracks,
goes taut and twists and arcs

      and you return
to nestle close
within the circle of my arms.

Like that, you say.
But more intense.

      And smile.

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