Long ago I traced those knuckles
Of that hand lying quietly
Slung over my shoulder
At the end of your muscled forearm
Arched in delight as it brushed my cheek,
Grazed my newly offered breast
Long ago I traced those knuckles
Of that hand, wiped away my blood
With a cold wetted white cloth
Held ice to purpling bruises
Raising in the aftermath of the
Silencing of some words not
To your liking
Long ago I traced those knuckles
Cajoling caterwauling regret
Back through rage, back through passion
To lie quiet and protective over
my shoulder in the circle of your strength
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