Bowing to another’s hearted bow

His lips love all of me. Others too
when together we step on our family
of the world each legged as though walking
so quick it thinks. An alive sweetheart
I found younger than when I was born,
“two years and you grow a little,” I remember
saying nearly not myself at times—to say
what pushes him up where he steps
on my family of organs to his together.

And the bed loves all of him on me.
Even what spies thousands of yards
across the heavens in the breaking light
of the only time we perpetuate, and like
an oyster homeless we crawl up to each other
and yawn, and hope we get stuck
in the one happiness not solemn—that is to fuck.

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~ by Jeremy on January 1, 2010.

2 Responses to “Bowing to another’s hearted bow”

  1. Even cuter.

  2. I hope Rob liked it too.

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