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Ecce Panis Angelorum

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Tomato
round and red
says the mind in passing
but the body lingers
lifting, brushing skin against lips
a bristle of peppery stem
singeing my cheek with
summer's lusty song
here in this trail of dirt
where flesh meets flesh
here: this fragile erubescence
blood of the moment's whole
pours into me
its wordless
psalm

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