CLIMAX ENDING
Language comes to me
unadorned with the hypothesis
of roses before the fading
of summer’s rage.
In darkened rooms we lie
naked escaping summer’s
wrathful eye.
Cool nights offer escape
and I rewrite the poems that
carry me
until the neap heat of midday;
words sensuously release the
metaphors
until orgasm is the invisible
line
a conclusion, an end stop—
to what isn’t written, not even
hidden
characters to give away
the secret climax ending.
8/14/94
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