Non-Erotic PoetryGeminiI see them face to face,
conjoined somehow,
sick of each other’s sight but
constrained to stay:
eternal catamites, prey to
sex-starved wanderers who
lust conjunction with each
or either.
When randy Jupiter swings by, or
cruel, surly Saturn comes, can
the one read or sing or knit while
the other’s rictus purls
from pain to pleasure?
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