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Poems From Cave 17

Dottie & Richard When I think about you,
I can feel my wings beating.
There's enough love in your voice
to make me fly.


I love you as if it's World War II
and you've just been "called up."
It's raining hard
and I'm wearing a sensational goodbye hat.


    I put my hand
    up your sleeve,
    looking for
    god-knows-what
    and your arm seems
    protected and holy.
    I feel unworthy,
    the way I sometimes do
    around fresh vegetables.



I've been numb for over a month now
and the winter sneaked in
with fast-moving clouds
that colored the ocean
that emerald-tinted, travel poster green
(more like a swimming pool, really),
but I was talking about the numbness--
how it fashioned my days and held my hand,
as the sunsets grew increasingly, predictably
spectacular.


    You make me laugh,
    easily, endlessly,
    starting out
    in that safe place
    where you love me,
    then, tunnelling
    like a kiss
    up through my soul.







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