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Emmanuelle
Emmanuelle stretches across the middle of a pullout couch
bedded uncovered only in flesh colored gauze lingerie.
She relaxes, sleeps with arms open, facing Rue St. Laurent
in celebration of rest, after a first night of dance.
Our Sunday morning clouds from the picture window
beyond her prone figure, light the living room.
Emmanuelle is luminous and warming, verdant and welcoming
against the tundra of February's grays crawling the floor.
Her head and hair are loose and a drum tight stomach gently rises and falls.
Fresh blankets are wrinkled remain to nestle around her face.
Ice sheets of steel wedged bolsters and tossed plump pillows
wait with little more to ask. Her sleeping here is enough.
Being herself, she let go. Knowing, truth be told, is kept silent and secure.
Emmanuelle is woman with us, pręt a vivre.
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