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Away From Me
by Kay Weeks

Lying there, my scion of manliness
dethroned in dream: One arm
bridging disparate parts,
the other—outstretched—extends
between his hiked-up knees,
all engineered by a sort of self-hugging
that obviously agrees.
Away from me, I wonder
if he pursues the other lives,
resurrecting some game, or friend,
or early love,
and yes, I conclude,
it is a mild defection, so walk away
to let him keep his summer ease.


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