Half of each of you makes two. Makes one
of each. Makes two of you and two of me,
at least. Is that not true? And good?
Is more the greater part of less?
And what of less when less is portioned
to only one of two? Who thrives,
who lives, who toils in shadow? Who
lifts her hem? Who pulls the breast
out of its pouch? Whose ear
receives the furtive breath?
Whose hand in moonlight pulls
toward the silver of the bark?
Only one. Or both. Of you.

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