Insatiable
gaze set loose,
lording over
immediacy
with unabashed
gate-polishing.
Some portraits
turned out
to be mirrors.
Unclear
what terms
I am on
with the noose.
Some days,
I feel my strength
in the wave,
a squeeze of shoulders,
some hundreds
of minuscule interactions
that save, that save.
The point of this:
my tenderness
feels less obtuse
when I am lucky
enough
to be of use.
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