Keepers of Night

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Is it the red texture of
loving we love?
Or the taste?
Sybarites.
Flesh into flesh,
eyes shut tight.

Mouth upon mouth
we touch.
Lost keepers of night.
Insatiable purloiners.

Blind atoms dissatisfied till joined.
Ineffable owners of sense.
Accredited purveyors of life.

4 October 1994

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