Who resides at the shoulder
of that keep-away arm?
She does not know.
She only knows the figure
on the other end of the fist.
She knows only her heart,
a bruised peach
that continues to beat and desire
and press against
that hardened, stay-away fist.
Why? Venus asks, Why
does she keep
subjecting herself to hope?
As if that handful of coal
will brilliantly burst into diamonds -
as if the knuckles will un-gnarl
and that ossified elbow
will miraculously bend and release.
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