Wonderful anguish unearths,
uncloaks the rapt borne inside.
“O, body, such a tripping kink!”
she laughed, and the spur just slid.
Down like a rider’s pressing heel,
grasping something of the kinship
between the dragon and the steed
where they yield to a piercing tip.
“And do you know that there is
a pyre in each papyrus that dies
if unseen but lives every time
it meets eyes as proficient as mine?”
she said, tilting her head way too back.
As if the point was a ball for me to seize.
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