Browned leaves litter the pavement
like clawed hands
or scattered flames.
I love you, my toddler tells me,
digging into my cheeks.
Do you love me?
I bury
my nose in his wispy hair.
He grabs my wrist,
moves it up and down
his cheek. When I draw away
he pinches me.
How do we love each other,
let us count the ways
and how much,
and how little
and who more.
How long will you lie to me?
A reddened vine encircles
the lemon tree, a leaf cluster
rising to ring the finger
when I have you
heart sliced open
prostate on my knees
what do we do
with the openings,
what lies in wait inside?
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