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By Francis Scudellari Careless he falls into ritual poseDo dropped, down before this mothering knot;Her gathering brown limbs, machine-carved smoothIn hollow, molded arc, to cradle him; His knees nudge close, drawn by a heavy pulse,Curiosity fed by seeming cord;Hesitant he fingers the glassy skin,Conceiving ways through this liquid portal; Pressed tips against her bulged belly … Read moreTELEVISION