Maxwell Bodenheim

1892 - 1954 / Mississippi / United States

We Met Upon Nearby Hill-Tops

We met upon nearby hill-tops of our lives
And shook the dust from us, revealing flame-laced clothes
And eyeing each other in the same moment.
You curved a longing to the wave of your arm:
A longing for dark rest crossed by unbidden gifts.
And my eyes deepened in answer. . . .
Then we floated down to the valley between us:
The valley ringed with smooth honey-combs of sleep.
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