These bodies weren’t made for poems
These bodies weren’t made for
poems—i say as you open
me—a page turn—
fold—crease this body
let’s come back to this—
let’s keep
book marks—
each other’s skeletons
written napkins—
back pockets full of
left turns—
these bodies weren’t
made for poems—
these bodies were made
for your mouth on my neck—
i met you & you found
page numbers on my
hips—
pearls under my tongue—
strum my throat—
& i will reverberate—
you reverberate in me—
& the walls know your name—
they tease me—they tell
me your body was a shadow
i cannot keep—
your body was a handful of
words
only written
against a silent sliver of
moon—there was no
part of us to be contained—
ceiling grew feathers—
coughed clouds—
skin to skin to skin
to binding of a book
i call my spine—
forgive me now for
keeping your shadow—
for pulling out handfuls
stars like blue berries—
for eating the whole moon
a sour grapefruit—
this is all because my skin
has a haphazard halo—
a glow—
your finger prints &
i’m adrift
in them like
labyrinths— these bodies
these bodies
oh your body
was not made to fit
in a poem—
