As we were making love, I looked at my hands
cupping your chin and they were your hands,
with light hair curling past the knuckle
and a wide silver ring. How could that be?
I slid my teeth over your lower lip and pulled away
to see that your hand on my thigh was my hand
and just as I was wondering if I should bring it up—
if you’d mind having such long fingers
with dabs of pink nail polish at the ends—
you lifted your hand,
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