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November 7, 2015

Wash me clean in water clear between
your soft lip riverbanks and bless my skin
with purity (the kind of innocence
that lives in mountain valley solitude,
with ferns the only blades and only pines
for longing). Let me grow among your teeth
and hunt for god in daylight; leaving traps
for morning, never hunt for resting. Let
me feel your fingers in my tangled hair,
releasing knots and clearing dust from halls
within my temples. Wash me with your tongue,
its barbs the biting wind, its softness in
my hunger; wash me in your falling streams
and waking dreams and drown me in your eyes.
Deliver me a childlike wonder, whole
and blessed and virginal in thought; let age
develop newness; let my infant heart
expand into your womb before it forms
opinions of the world. Expose your throat
to me and brush me with the satin breeze
of autumn hair. I’m cleaned within your thoughts;
within the warm kiss riverbanks I’m cleaned.

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