Interlacing the Being of Boys

Out of a much longer erotic poem, these lines jump like an epigram.

It was a finger that inched forward—
then a hand fully clasped—fingers interlaced.
Then a kiss. A blush. We were just boys.

Stephen S Mills
“How We Became Sluts”

Placed in my reading beside these quoted lines (witness to the ephemeral from elsewhere):

We hardly perceive a fraction of our living
  there was a new tenderness touching my cheek
    and then you died

Lisa Robertson
“The Tiny Notebooks of Night”

And so for day 3108

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