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Poem: Aubade 

He enters into her morning
coffee, becomes the aroma

of Bolivian mountains, redolent
of chill air and treacherous roads. She fills

her nostrils with pungent steam,
her night sweat swirling through him

in fine particles. She’ll drink herself
with him, he’s absorbed into her,

acidic as he rises through her glands.
She showers. He streams down her

in droplets, catching on hair made heavy
with soapy water, then gone but for

the film of him still on the shirt she’ll wear
again that night. She will never be free of him.

Speaking of...

  • Poetry is edited by Philip Levine.


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