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Robin Ekiss

The Giraffe

When we were angry with each other,
we spoke only to the giraffe.

He bent down as if to drink,
while I rose up to the tree line

where the acacia waited to be stripped
by my tongue. A compromise, then:

admission of redress. In spite
of thirst and thorns, we ate.

Oh the exquisite distances
between mouth and tail!

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