Twenty nine years ago
 

before meeting I wrote poem upon poem in a rush

in the maid’s spindle-

thin
 

lback room

like a Doric column my spine:

a bobbin of white thread
 

only whiter

unrolling

as life unfolded you from showertowel in that back clandestine room
laugh two Lesbians:
 

breaking my ironclad life open

laughing

grateful with all the boy-body & both girl-hands.