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Indigo storm

I’d like to make you wild enough to paint me into an indigo storm,

throw me overboard and wash me up in the hail of a forbidden shore.

I want you to count the sea shells between my toes and forget

any other than the ten slippery wet ones between your lips.

I’d like to make you laugh at every form and word you’ve ever made

until now, when a wolf is born with eyes like an rising amazon eclipse.

I want to make you rise into the ancient skin you wear in my dreams

and fall into a web of legs and arms, protruding like dancers from a purple flower.

I’d like to sing you into sleep and wake you into truth

with the power of a pre-historic vibration sung with devotion.

I’d like to give you everything, just for an afternoon, a sunrise, a crescent moon, a life

let down the drawbridge and flood the moat with my silliness and lust.

I want to give you something I can never reclaim, nor you forget

even if you want to, even if we tried, even if I wished

we never met.


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