14.4.15

Dissection


Fig. 1
We are sitting, appropriately spaced
he and I
spaced roughly eight
smooth hard inches
from one another
on his parents’ couch
delicately lit
yellow light
reading his poetry

Fig. 1b
I flip through his books
find lines I like
to proclaim aloud
and his hand
his fingers
his palm
the tendons of the
tendrils that lead from knuckle
to nail from marrow
to keratin
twitch

Fig. 1c
I lean forward elbows 
on knees
flip and read
and the twitch takes
form as his
knuckles, no
the smooth
layer between each joint
they stretch
to glean
they drop
or shrewdly pass
they glide the length of my
spine as I grasp
the spine of
his words
and with 
this graze
I
intake

Fig. 1d
A pause
His left hand outstretched 
clasping one casual beer 
comfortable in our
warm light in our
gap that begins to
converge as our space
converses
Why
did he glean Why did he
run the length of his finger
down me
to feel my hair to touch my shirt
to tell me
to thank me
as I feel hot blood or vomit or
cum rising from
hip to
chest from navel
to aorta
and My God was there ever a person on
this earth who wanted to reach out
and touch the face of another as
I do now

Fig. 2
Two single beds
together separate
so blindingly separate
he says he will
sleep on the couch
no we are separate enough
don’t widen this gap any
further
please
he crawls adjacent
lean form under covers
that used to be for
brother and he
where is here
where is this body placed
now
please edge closer I can’t
have this crack
between us
and he concedes

Fig. 2b
My lips when
have they been such
wanderers such
harbingers
impolite, unasking
skipping mouth and
finding the length of
his neck nestled creeping to
his lobe as he
sighs

Fig. 2c
He pulls   breaks
no
he says he can’t when
he’s with another when
he’s made a promise
he cannot fall
I cannot push
and yet I    shove
thinking of
those hands those
knuckles those
tendrils leaning collapsing
particles caressing
the contours
and the
reach

Fig. 3
We eat sushi suitably
placed
sixteen implacable inches
from one another
across a food court table
talking of
work school family respectable lovers
speaking of confused
conclusions
We are 
just friends 
now


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1 comments:

sursanchari said...

Emily... I LOVE your words.

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