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You took my hand to hide it in that private place
where darkness could dwell no more, then held
my soft skin 'gainst your rough short hair, rubbed
my fingers frantic'ly under the full moon of bed-
room lamp near where this youth met what he would
soon become upon initiation into damp, dark need
that never departs once gained but nags eternal
as some long lost faith buried in a sinning soul.
You gave me in my hand as I withdrew the miracle
of satisfaction wet in my palm. Did you know then
what I would become? Forever lost in that time,
a man who seeks some novelty not founded
on imitation of what you taught, a sin that none
before had offered but as then was freely given.
No. Not your fault that I acceded and accepted
as my way through flesh and into love that path
that you chose then offered me upon black skin.
And every woman since, unknowing, thanks you much
for sins well taught and learned upon your couch.

- John Horváth Jr

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