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He told her that he designed with intent
to look disingenuous – after all, Machiavellian.

She nodded, let her gaze linger a moment,
licked her lips; he sighed.

Acrobatic swirls of fancy, intertwined
in the lattice between them; arabesque.

A couplet and a wine, vintage Elizabeth,
portrayed grander, yet conceived modestly.

I am still convinced by the heave of her bosom,
compelled by the breath of her air.

© Chagall 2014

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