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Love: Beginnings -- C K Williams

(Poem #136)Love: Beginnings
 They're at that stage where so much desire streams between them,
   so much frank need and want,
 so much absorption in the other and the self
   and the self-admiring entity and unity they make—
 her mouth so full, breast so lifted, head thrown back
   so far in her laughter at his laughter
 he so solid, planted, oaky, firm, so resonantly factual
   in the headiness of being craved so,
 she almost wreathed upon him as they intertwine again,
   touch again, cheek, lip, shoulder, brow,
 every glance moving toward the sexual, every glance away
   soaring back in flame into the sexual—
 that just to watch them is to feel again that hitching in the groin,
 that filling of the heart,
 the old, sore heart, the battered, foundered, faithful heart,
   snorting again, stamping in its stall.
-- C K Williams

Crusoe -- George Bilgere

(Poem #135)Crusoe
 When you've been away from it long enough,
 You begin to forget the country
 Of couples, with all its strange customs
 And mysterious ways. Those two
 Over there, for instance: late thirties,
 Attractive and well-dressed, reading
 At the table, drinking some complicated
 Coffee drink. They haven't spoken
 Or even looked at each other in thirty minutes,
 
 But the big toe of her right foot, naked
 In its sandal, sometimes grazes
 The naked ankle bone of his left foot,
 
 The faintest signal, a line thrown
 
 Between two vessels as they cruise
 Through this hour, this vacation, this life,
 Through the thick novels they're reading,
 Her toe saying to his ankle,
 
 Here's to the whole improbable story
 Of our meeting, of our life together
 And the oceanic richness
 Of our mingled narrative
 With its complex past, with its hurts
 And secret jokes, its dark closets
 And delightful sexual quirks,
 Its occasional doldrums, its vast 
 Future we have already peopled 
 With children. How safe we are
 
 Compared to that man sitting across the room,
 Marooned with his drink
 And yellow notebook, trying to write
 A way off his little island.
-- George Bilgere