In a 10’ X 6’ hovel, strapped on hands and back
til he’s red Juan said “In one more chamber, just one”.
He's decades younger, & ficus pure & he'd have run
—only he!— bare-footed against the rocks, for her
Sorted badly under the rumors, the wine and valley,
& the arroyo heat
only she'd have seen (only she) the cross thru a veil
To redden after prayers is to need it, wrapt in armlets
A panel each for their love!
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