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I should dare you to duel
The free form of my breasts
Against your ribs' rhythmic meter,
To challenge your tight grip
By my hands free as prose.
I should sound out where
My narrow hips rhyme with yours
If it takes all night singing
To rest your consonants in mine,
Hum release in unison.
I should measure in the dark
Your slumber's fade to private metaphor
Where each moment divides into sets of five
And doubles over to a shadowed smile
As simple as a nursery song.
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