Ours

These words are mine,
No other’s.

On mornings
When I hear your arms
Tumbling through
The shower spray,
I wonder if it’s worth
My while,
To keep still,
Holding my breath,
Reluctant as I am
To hear strangers
On subways
Spewing curses and odd
Remnants of
Schizophrenic tales:

Mothers left on ships,
Sons in thick forests
Of their ambitions,
Daughters bartered
Through every truce.

Secrets catch us
By our shirttails,
But they are ours,
My love,
They are ours.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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