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Sepia
We sat in a brightly lit kitchen
Reenacting old arguments
Like Shakespearean works
Old with an immediacy we can't seem to shake
We'd forgotten the lines we wrote without trying
On a long-ago night in August
Heat in the air, heat between us
We create the dust we breathe
As the pictures of vacations to Europe
Sit in boxes under stairs in houses
Faces blurring, colours falling into their sepia slumber
And one day
Will your children find my face interesting enough to ask my name?
And if they do
What will you say of me?
How will you introduce me to those who cannot yet understand
Bodies that move as one
Passion like earthquakes and electricity
And the thrill of shoulders touching in a room full of people?
And how will you introduce me to those who cannot yet understand
Invisible bonds splintering
Learning to turn away from a kiss
And the quiet formation of dust in an empty room?
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