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  • Alex Bortell

to patroclus

for want of eyes, of skin, of teeth,

to sink my teeth into the flesh

of the peach, the apple

and its sweetness,

to rival the sour i seek

when picking honey-sweet

pomegranates from your leaves.

slipping tongue between teeth

and seed beneath tongue,

i searched for you in hades’ garden.

wondering where your sweet soul

wanders – past the river lethe?

how do i reach you if

thetis forgot to dip me.

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