1794: Gardening

For S.L.

Here flesh-plantings [for our afternoon]
but delayed fig tree endeavours – ’til my
sighs followed yours/ You face away – I
see celestial-stencilled stars [a skin tale
in that window’s impartial grin] charting
you – in sorts – to guide my clasps – your
moles & scars relate one’s past – lovers’
visits of buryings & closings? Outside a
dog howls in a neighbour’s garden/ We
recovered – with my thigh dripped dry &
your hair ruffled [smiles in sperm hours
until sleep returns]/ I’ll ride off – I’ll ache

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