[Based upon a vivid dream I had on a new medication, which needed to be expressed in full. It may not be great poem, but I need to flesh out what it means.]
The stormy knot in my belly
as your fingers made maps
of my land. Your touch
the kind that made
goosebumps a real occurrence.
My hip in your hand,
quivering. A man's grasp
I couldn't quick fathom.
Our mouths foamy with
toothpaste. The sink,
still running its mouth.
And the only moment
in my exposed flesh
anyone would say,
I wouldn't mess with
your body,
wouldn't change it,
have nothing to say
against it.
Except the
missing piece that made
the puzzle list left.
Your hands, voyaging ships
on the icy sea
came to rest on my bones,
curved wrong.
Adam's rib gone missing
from my own side,
my cage leaning
and sorry.
You said,
you're uneven.
I already knew,
some cosmic fate locked in
the physical as you touch
my broken parts.
I am not good enough
in this way,
but you let
your hands linger anyway.
The sin lingers longer
than even phantom limbs
can last. You are
the hospital bed to
my amputation
as you curl into
the big spoon
to my
tarnished
ice tea spoon.
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