centipede / millipede 

i collect legs. to run.
to row the boat. to smash holes
in the doors of gutless bathrooms.
once, i found a leg in the river.
it belonged to a racing horse. 
legs in the basement collecting dust
from lack of use. legs in the pantry
to feast on when the running
has turned me into pie.
i do not think i could ever 
have enough legs. legs are always
folding. knees that turn into bottle caps.
here is my shaken heart. my escape hatch self.
i do not need a getaway car.
i just need you to pick up the phone
next time i call. i just need you
to love me like you did when we were
on our harvest together, plucking legs
from the bushes & legs from 
the dumpsters. people will get rid of 
perfectly nice legs but sometimes i worry
i will be walking & someone will start chasing me,
saying, "those are mine." do you remember
how i held still for you? i was a toad
in the middle of the headlight street.
you told me to extend out my thigh
& so i did. you caressed & found the seam.
you said, "i would love this." i said,
"please take it, i have so many."
that is not true. i do not have
so many. i had enough to last the night
or maybe less. i go through legs like popcorn.
you ran around the house with them
until they were useless. then & only then
did you return them to me. 
& dear god, i thanked you.