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by Janell Moon
Love did not just wander
into your life as in the story you tell.
Always love was in the recesses of your body
as you swept the walk and weeded the garden.
Love's kindness spilled from under your ribs
when your ribs relaxed and your heart first melted.
In the folds of your skin, you learned
to find comfort in worn cotton things.
Love helped your legs find stretches
you thought not possible
and the ripples of your spine straightened
allowing height and a sense of treetops.
The fear of betrayal you lugged
in the old suitcase of your body
insisted on honesty and your bowels relaxed.
Love as mouth and breast and tongue
words streaming finally reach the whistle
of the kettle, loud, and the water hot,
then quiet, oh, so quiet.