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Asian Pear Madrigal

ISSUE:  Fall 2019


The blushed syllable it wore 
with its whole body,
tawny rose-hip orb
of antique origin,

was peddled by the season
that’s upon us,
love, and is the only reason
I could bear to slice

a sugared coin of it
into this cup of gin
where it floats in candescent facet
of spirit, egoless, your gift:

tongues making of one a pair.
A presence to carry everywhere.



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