Ayena
By Marial Awendit
Ayena,
if from discordant
histories we have fused
like death to a corpse
or
day to one-eyed sun,
were we not butter goaded
from black and white teats?
shall we again search
for an envious sun
to severe these cords
between these veins
of words from your petal
lips and these green shoots of joy
in my heart?
if complete parting be where your passions love,
let us run back where we were never.
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