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Your heart's grown cold.
And if I could light
a fire to melt it,
I would.

But you can't start
a fire without
a spark.

I've heard that
you can start a fire by
rubbing two sticks together.

But we don't have any sticks.
Could rubbing our legs together
work just as well?

you hold a magnifying glass
to my ear

a tiny sun on my ear drum,
a wildfire blowing across my nervous system

i taste copper dripping

but you soothe
as well as ignite

pouring cool skin over me,
an anointment, a flood

a salve to the forest

and from above, the beams of your eyes
sweep the dark places between my ribs

kicking dust up into spaces
i had forgotten to clean

but it doesn't matter now

as the crest of you comes down
ruining my house of bones

carrying a soup of me
to the dark waters

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