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Oh, how I’ve missed breathing you in;

the soles of my feet gripping your fragrant skin,

skipping along your body as you spin.


I’ve longed for this oxygen, communion, intoxication,

taking you in as you penetrate my frigid rim.

Climb deep inside, discover my within, as I breathe all of your freshness in.


In, in, into the pores of this woman;

into the lungs that need you to win;

into my heart, pieced together again; into the folds that know intimate sin.


You forgive nothing since nothing is to be forgiven.

You give and give with nurturing passion.

You insist on impressing me life and limb.


Your branches ask nothing in return, except that I accept

your gifts like we’re kin, familiar like family,

a love affair forbidden in dungeons, prisons, under soil, hidden.


But here in the great wide open, I yearn as you constantly turn,

witnessed by multitudes of stars, the shimmering moon.

I am yours, lover earth, my friend.


You are mine, I know because I breathe you in.

Air answers my prayer, allowing me to live.

Spring peeks through winter rain, acknowledging joy in change.


It’s a new season, and here I am—once again—

breathing you in, smelling your wet-grass scent,

feeling your sun on my warm skin.


By Suzanne Beranek