the weak noise of her eyes easily files my impatience to an edge

my girl’s tall with hard long eyes

as she stands, with her long hard hands keeping

silence on her dress, good for sleeping

is her long hard body filled with surprise

like a white shocking wire, when she smiles

a hard long smile it sometimes makes

gaily go clean through me tickling aches,

and the weak noise of her eyes easily files

my impatience to an edge–my girl’s tall

and taut, with thin legs just like a vine

that’s spent all of its life on a garden-wall,

and is going to die. When we grimly go to bed

with these legs she begins to heave and twine

about me, and to kiss my face and head.

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