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Ekstase

By January 9, 2012January 22nd, 2016Writing

As if in response to some call for proof.
Under pressure, shame and stress,
ponded with the foam through which Hedy dove,
hair wrung dry in a tight-closed fist.
From deepest moan to lightest sigh,
as if salacity were merest stumble.
The slush fund just went through the roof.
Lovers who change their address
from Mars Field to a Valencian orange grove,
creeping back in a champagne mist
to relive a ride, recapture a cry,
cuddle the blizzard of a one-night tumble.

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