To not have been the homely sister, good
only for sweeping dust from under the stairs

To have the courage to say here
kiss me here and here and here

To drink the silence of afternoons
gratefully in long cold gulps

To surrender the plate, the spoon,
the knife, the fork, after I am done

To keep back one kernel of sweet, one
serif, several bedsprings of light

To carve the likeness of a saint’s hand
after it has been severed from the wrist

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