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She says there is a sadness
I promise to pull her toes,
to experiment with her
sadness until it goes away.

She laughs and does not
believe it. It does not
matter. I know there is
no such thing as sadness

and when it is heavy,
a blanket. I have folded
many blankets out of
reach. We never shiver

together anyway. If
I lie and her idea of sadness
is where she is sewn
to the real. Just as

real then is the
truth of the lie
that scatters her sadness,
sand from a dune hill

(and just as real
the sadness scattered
from a dune hill).
Two figures lie, nearly still

in a configuration of shadows
hiding darkness from darkness
not hearing their breathing
feeling sadness pass through them

steam through a white sheet
flapping gently in a gentle breeze.

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