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I Can Resist This! –

Tenuous grip on sanity –
that scent of man –
tendons on a turned neck –
the gesture of a hand –

Flex of muscles on a leg –
– I can resist this! –
To long – it’s been too long –
– I don’t need this! –

A hand is raked through hair –
a thought, a hope, a wish –
wispy clouds of breath
in winter air; mine, his –

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Your Masterpiece

Your palms lay out the background
with the heat they carry in them –
the heat that in the dawn of our species
was granted by the core of our Earth.

Your fingertips then paint me
with their liquid fire –
clothe me in a cobweb
of invisible tattoos –
an intricate masterpiece
of flesh and nerves
that lasts as long
as I do.

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To Be Drawn

’Stretch out your leg and bend your arm,
look to the left – sit still.’
I stay poised in front of you
while you the paper fill.

And then a new pose, and another
on and on again –
what heat spreads throughout my form
as you draw yet again.

What strength of passion do I feel
while your mind’s bent on art –
while you draw my naked body
and observe each separate part.

Can you not see my heartbeat through
the skin you solemnly draw –
do you not feel the heat in the room?
No? You just draw and draw.

Still poised for your artistic pride
I wonder here, alone,
how strange and how mysterious
a feeling – to be drawn.