Young Animals I

Holding you,
trembling, the hurt
song in you.
Why has it wavered

in the infinite openings
of these sheets,
in this new wakefulness,
alert to the silent thrust
of his stone?

Did you know it would be this way?
This strange solitude
you share
threatens to become you.

And what you give
over, in the tearful exchange,
where will he take it,
in the fretful journeys of his sleep,

how will it become him?
Courage fails through crimson sighs.
But have you ever been this unguarded,
this immense, without towers?

See how the young animals flow
so freely from you now,
through the undulating pain,
through the breaking joy.

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