Do you want to be an autumn rain with me?
-And other ways to love yourself.

Do you want to be an autumn rain with
me? I'm asking you because I need
permission to love you-- I want
someone to tell the both of
us we are beautiful together--
myself and this skin and this
autumn rain that woke both
of us up too early and too late--
eyes painted open by oak leaves
intruding in the windows we forgot
to close because the room
had felt so small the night before
and we had felt so far apart--
sat on opposite ends of the room
and called each other the names 
only lovers call each other
like 
ugly and broken and useless and heavy
and burden-burden-burden
opened the windows so the neighbors
could hear us fight--
We wake as broken coffee mugs on 
the kitchen floor--
we pick shards from each others bare feet--
Remind each other that there will 
be more coffee mugs 
and more mornings 
and more skin that always 
grows back after the cuts--
that our feet were made to bleed.
You tell me I have the feet of a dinosaur
and I kiss you and feel guilty about it--
stand naked statue in a mirror.
I had told you to wear slippers.
It's too cold to strum our 
ribs in another foggy bathroom mirror-- 
So we knit ourselves 
into sleeves today--
the quilt of our mother
who pulled out our hairs one
at a time until it made a rainbow-- 
blow our spines inside out like
the spiderweb spires of the old
rust laden umbrella who rests heavy
and burdensome  
by the door-- head hung like a grandmother--
We both fit under one umbrella
even if we still get our feet
wet. We can hold hands so everyone
knows that we are lovers 
ugly lovers--
unfurl each others fingers like the grip
of cold naked statues-- 
tell each other that
we're pretty enough 
to be stone
to be obelisks 
to be a pair
of angels who perch on the empty mausoleum
of our father
paste our wet socks on the radiator
to sizzle like oak leaves.
You can use my arms for firewood--
cut off our bangs for tinder
together we can be pretty in 
our sweater sleeves and 
autumn rain-- be pretty in our 
bleeding statue feet--
be pretty from either side 
of our room-- open windows 
to hear us scream
we're pretty, pretty, pretty--
will you will you will you 
be autumn rain with me?
Be statues?
Be broken coffee mugs on the kitchen floor?
Be my skin and my autumn rain?