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July 6, 2013


I took you like my coffee.
Dark and with a shiver.
An unsure hand and a nervous laugh.
By the mothering eye of morning.
You sat amongst my books and I taught you the game of Go.
My Ada.
In your keen grace.
Barely dressed.
Sipping tea and curling your toes.
Your hair in tangles.
Completely unaware.
My little opium nymphette.
My brazen head.
My maiden head.
An answer for any question.
My proudest invention.
The game was made for you.
And I taught you almost nothing.
Biting your lip as you saw that you’d won.
Minds met like whetstones.
And the blade they honed.
Was the migraine-sharp spear of daylight.
That fell across your stomach.
As we made love on the floor.
And I wanted so much more.
We both knew you weren’t built for that.
A music box in her own echo chamber.
You made me a poet.
But you were already the song.


From → Poetry

One Comment
  1. Wow. “I took you like my coffee.” I was hooked from the first line. True poet. Keep writing. Can’t wait to see the rest of your stuff!

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