Lovers Night Out

Under the larch­es and lark shit
and the woo they lay down —
a canopy of bad ideas and chuffed promises —
Bethany slept and Paul counted
the things he want­ed to do
before he died.
Bethany the heart, Paul the vein.
Like Chi­nese beryl or blastomeres,
they’re cleft and uncleft, twins who mimic
twin­ning. They make everything
that they believe.
Bethany the anchor, Paul the chain.
After dark, they unfurl and slide
into town. Paul prongs oysters
onto her dusty tongue, and she
chirps and licks him clean.
Bethany the mem­o­ry, Paul the stain.

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