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Joanna Suzanne Lee Reads


two good wanderers

our tongues travel
cross continents
in dreams as if
 
they were camel-borne
on some silk road, as if
their shadows
 
were tied in tangos, as if
the sum of our kisses could
account for something.
 
your words are rain-
drops that coalesce
into the sadness
 
of my plateglass thought-
stream. they make for good
poem weather, wet &
 
expectant & yet
a color is too weighty a thing
to give singly and before a storm.
 
still, it is better to build bridges
from the edges of oceans:
i would give you the blue
 
in my eyes, except
on the days they are green.
there are many true worlds,
 
poet, and the night
touches them
--all.










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