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- Erotic Poetry
- afternoon
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a short while ago
she ran, rucked, fiercely competed,
surging with her team-mates to victory
and now she kneels quietly beside me
her head on my lap
as I gently stroke her hair,
feeling safe and at peace
they are the same one, those two.
But Walt Whitman was wrong:
they do not contradict each other
I am beginning to understand,
to process the pieces,
hoping she will help
- October 30, 2000
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