He grapples
your body under the persimmons.
your hand remarks
his buttocks’ frenzied loaves.
I envy his ebullient strain
and your valiant
dissatisfaction, note
the narcoleptic
drift
of your eyes toward
the red muscular fruit
dangling in red fetal curls.
your eyes on the fleshy red buds,
and your thirst for them.
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