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Supplicant to your touch,
a necklace, beads taut in hemp,
lies belly to the nightstand,
ends untied.
In the rush of hair drying,
lost lipstick and
last minute perfume,
you sprint out the door
late for your 9 am again .
I roll over and touch your necklace.
My arm falls,
then
my head sinks
into the pillow.
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