This is how it pays, and pays out
I’m left high and dry
Wondering what is and is not.
Nothing is ever quite enough
I am insatiable; she is empty.
Neither is wrong – each just is.
But still we strung
a rope between our poles
and took turns to walk – run – dance across
Sometimes meeting in the middle
Both aware and blissfully not
Of the drop below us.

Held at arm’s length
my body yearns for her elbow to crook
and enfold me once more
in all her high wire dreams.


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