2 Jan 2005, 6:58am
Writing
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1:1 Redux

I want to migrate heav’n
into a barn and lie down
on the hay and swallow you,

swaddle you. I am the boy now,
not grown. I am small
and alone. Remember me

when you fold yourself
into the sheets and toss your hair.
You are the woman now, full grown,

You are flesh, bough, and sun.
It must be that we belong
to a moment that didn’t pass,

We must have been afraid.
Oh god.
Someone ought to murder that moment.