26 grudnia 2018
Preface
Between life and death 
a photo finish race 
will decide the relationship. 
 
There was intoxication 
at heights. Your throat had 
become hoarsed, sliced 
after a scream. Matchsticks 
were thrust in the 
gnawed mound of kneaded 
flour. The kitchen 
was going to explode. 
 
Barehands you were 
picking the black beans; 
parting me lip by lip 
caressing me thumb by thumb.
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