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Two poems by Gray Torres
My lover
My lover is my escape
There are maps
written in the bronchi
of their lungs,
steps traced
from the muscle
Of the willing
Their hair a ladder
I climb
Stiff under my weight
eyes glazed,
body straight
A pillar
until they crack
or shift
Then we
Trade places
My body solid
as they look
for flowers and rivers
shoulders tremble
a heavy sigh creeps
up my back
And I collapse
under dreams of
Rings and flowers
we lift each other
by green and red
stained clothes.
To pull apart
Clean and dress
Our own wounds
Eyes burning
As we limp away
To separate paths