you--what are you?
the shadow of the chair
in the sky backlit against the palms
the blood pooling in my veins
not held or bidden
but biding
in the bulk I conjure against my skin
somewhere in the space between us
the night kissing my fingertips
you flee my hand when I reach for you
reflections on the water
the mourning dove cooing
in the dogs' chorus rising
from hill to hill
I am misplaced.
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