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Tod und das Weib
No flowers. I will not lie
in state or under the Astroturf
of cemeteries. (Earth has been
often enough my bed, but with
livelier bedfellows than these
morticians.) I have other plans.
I am engaged to Johns Hopkins.
Packed in that cool drawer
I hold my breath. My new lovers
scrub up. They clip their nails.
They put rubbers on their fingers.
They make jokes. They will uncover
all my secrets. They will know me
inside out.
I do not say all love is like this.
But if it is I choose it still.
As I came naked from my mother
as I went naked to my man
to feel at dying as at borning
against my flesh in their sweet fumble
the brash, tentative hands of men.
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