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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