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LANE, Anita


Stranger than kindness

Stranger than kindness

Bottled light from hotels

Spilling everything

Wet hand from the volcano

Sobers your skin


Stranger than kindness


You caress yourself

And grind my soft cold bones below

Your map of desire

Burned in your slave

Even a fool can come

A strange lit stair

And find a rope hanging there


Stranger than kindness


Keys rain like heaven's hair

There is no home, there is no bread

We sit at the gate and scratch

The gaunt fruit of passion

Dies in the light


Stranger than kindness


Your sleeping hands, they journey

They loiter

Stranger than kindness

You hold me so carelessly close

Tell me I'm dirty


I'm a stranger

I'm a stranger

I'm a stranger

To kindness