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The hour.

They can't get close enough--there's no such thing. Look. When they smile. Each rising like a tree Inside the other, breathing quietly. Two women start their hour by moistening. The engine pulling them around the bend Exposes irresistibly the train They're on extending from them through the rain. And then it's night. And it will never end. They're in a limousine. The plane they're on Is over water. Dawn reveals the two Berlins becoming one. And now they knew The time had come. And now the rain is gone. Two passengers aboard their lives undress Down to their hands. The lifelines touch. They stay Behind their smiles. The guard comes in to say The hour is over, and they tell her yes.
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Author:Seidel, Frederick
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Date:Jan 1, 1993
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