In a bright room, memory
flips through its album, your hand clutching mine
as if loosed
the link that joined us
might be lost.
Past the window dash men and women
seeking each other.
Born from that darkness, we were
two souls slogging a vast heath,
love’s embryo by then inside us,
its negative slowly taking shape:
the slightest glance, the faintest motion
vital.
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