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Tatenda Ncube Jul 2019
Winters' chill yester-night slid into my room,
Into my room, unannounced, found herself she a place under my sheetings
Allover mine body her caressing, chilly and inviting,
Inviting to my head thoughts of Summer, her last words "one day you'll miss me"
Miss her this day I do not, but her warmth, her warmth my mind keeps recalling, my body needing, my heart desiring
Hatred for her midday scorching heat, long gone is that feeling
Only her warmth, her early morning warmth, Oh her tender nibbles on my skin...
...To the one I took for granted
Evan Stephens Jan 2021
Belted star! Swing from the sea,
the gin is free, and we will drink out here
against the rail, needed company:
To my chagrin I’ve called her once again,
sleepless in Chicago’s restless drives.
She lets me know it’s not the night
to reconnect the nervous histories dreamed
between us in a single anxious twitch -
imperfect people love imperfectly.
Belted star, half-drunk on gin,
let's begin to count the countless
wraithly sheetings of the wind,
before I'm called inside by spills
of sotted laughter, and you're dimmed.
Revision of a poem from 1999

— The End —