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The Draper's Cloth
By Paul Cameron Brown
I imagine stars at the dragon's tail,
eyelids ringing with butter.
I want to brush palms as
lightly as two sparks.
take the wand of your waist
in two plush hands
with the pitiless gesture
of a sparrow
We part the leaves in breath,
arouse trees in envy.
I sense colours more vivid
than your tongue
after wine,
explosions to cap the wind.
To enter you in argument -
a bough creeking in underbrush,
svelte panthers hiding.
And afterwards, sheets are open galleys,
oarsmen ploughing breakers
across both sea and night.
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