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Concerning the Girl with the Cursive Tattoo Which Read:

"Too Late Have I loved You

O' Beauty So New"

Lord, grant me chastity and continence

But not yet.

Because I want to know the heaviness

Of her hands on my chest just one last time

And I want to kiss the sweat that beads up 

Between her shoulder blades when I'm behind her

Because she tastes -- I shit you not -- like altar wine

And beneath her tongue there's milk and raw honey. 

And Lord, God, deign to be always in me

But grant that I might be outside myself.

Because there's a red tide off Anastasia

And an albatross dying in the fire-brush outside

And it's been choking and wheezing the entire night

And I'm lying here in the tar-dark rehearsing its murder,

Making throats of my wrists and wringing 'em tight

Writing a requiem for the kid. 

O' from my secret sins pray cleans me, O' Lord

But first let the water warm awhile. 

Because I need to know the lightness

Of her life against mine just one last time

And I need a moment to memorize

This anthracite rhyme on the curve of her spine

Because it tastes -- I shit you not -- like salvation 

And from her own tongue it's milk and raw honey. 

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