BridgeYou changed the shape of us.Bridge by groundbird
I thought it had set in stone
when we laid out together to cool
in front of your fireplace
and eye-gazing at arm's length
exchanged splintered memories.
And if not then, the night we met
to hear the cellist
vibrate our taught strings - suspended
and I grabbed your hand in the dark
and wept, so moved by the gusts of sound,
feeling so misaligned to myself,
you mirroring my despondency in tune.
I thought our trodden tracks would run
side by side forever,
laddered together in our DNA,
And I would've known what to do too
if you had reached across to touch my breast,
if you had traced my lips with an outstretched finger
or pressed to feel my heart pound in your palm.
I have reinforced those points over years.
Those are not weak joints.
But instead, you cradled my head in your hands.
You worked and reworked my rigid necklines
back into clay or almost silt
passing through your fingers
warping my faculties.
and I buckled into you,
UnderbellyIt is warm this morning, and dark.Underbelly by groundbird
We are travelling to the core
of the earth, or maybe
this is hell - this tenderness.
Without undressing me you draw
my pants low on my hips, you tease the edge
of my shirt up to my heart.
Painting your fingertips across my stomach,
mapping the landscape under my felled biography, you point
out en route
scars and fissures, cracks and tributaries. I am
grateful you do not know where
To the center-
a cavern of indigestion and insulin,
a soaked trove of pharmaceuticals,
and further down,
a mine - stripped and barren.
Finding the slick gutter inside my hipbone
you handle what must feel like unbroken skin.
Eyes on the road.
I want to say "Please don't cut me.
Hold your hand idle.
Wait a minute for the rain to pass,
or better yet, dial back awile;
But what comes from my lips