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February 10, 2008
Your eyes
creased and incredulous
when I toss you those warmer words.

Are they really so warm,
or have your hands just been cold
for too long?

Tethered to the tower.

Iíve taken you one taunt too far
at the top of the ladder -
my wrist suddenly frozen
in your steel-calm grip.

And your silken gaze slides
from my shoulders to my thighs
like a tattered slip.

These same eyes -
by dizzying midnight headlights,
by fog-bent lighthouse sweep -
have guided me,
have guarded me so patiently.

But something in my skin
softens like summer
when you threaten me.