The smooth cool
Saturn

pulling away is not – I
repeat not – the smooth

cool on your skin
so much

as the silence
, the sound of the air

conditioner receding,
the automatic clutch

transitioning them forward
, requests

drifting into your brick
oven

to hide
during the day

, forgotten and
baked into

biscuits not even
the dog will touch.

The word touch here is
fatal

, is want, is
silent, is touch.

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