The September Sonnets: XVII

the earth comes back to us
in this moment of pure starlight
through our open window—there's
a breeze rustling over our skin bear
and resting itself in twilight
as the branches become the sky's truss.

we give nocturnal declarations our trust
so we can embark on our feverish delights
without concern for any man's cares.
it's time for us to engulf the air
as we—panting—harbor sights
of mouths—agape and frivolous.

let us breathe in all we know
let us fall into the undertow

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