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Poetry

She is so beautiful, it is enough—
her skin like milk, nipples like cherries,
her hair a long night without stars.
I find irresistible the blue vein
pulsing above her left ankle,
the green of those intelligent eyes.
Everything she wants, I want,
and though my mind is cleaved,
my full heart can only rejoice.
The apple snaps under my teeth—
a glad sound, like chains breaking.
She reaches for me. I am suddenly
ashamed, but with original love
she takes my hand and leads me,
broken and free, out of the garden.

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