On Women Who Have Committed No Sins

I have loved women in boots
who have around them
men wearing suits.
I have loved them in bright yellow, blue, and grey,
in the darkest evening, when
not a single owl hoots.

I have longed to kiss those tender lips,
fresh out of bed –
juicy, pulp, coloured in red.
I have longed to hold them in my arms
after they are wed.

I have held their hands
at the avalanche of civilisation;
they have clung back to familiar,
old debris,
where the saints await their entry to heaven –
no sins committed.

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