Sins

silence
sins are
gifts

kisses by
car doors

i have
become
bold
despite
the hitch
in side

the limp
in get up
and go

i am
wearing a
souvenir

a too
big jangle
around
too big
wrists

a prize
earned from
the last
match
between
you and i

i should
have refused
played girl

but i am
too old
these days

even now
with all
the whims
of the
saints,

who can
help but
stretch
out the
remnants of
what passed

we have a
windstorm
always at
our door,
a dry desert
of dust
and devils

your simple
gestures gift
sin.

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