today i felt the joints in your fingers like i was looking for something
and you touched my stomach the same way you interrupt yourself, um,
when you speak. your attention
is like your necklace, on and off, my
affection. admittedly, i was
looking for something
when peeling your skin, but i'll tell you this, i always will be
and you can smell my ambivalence more
than the others. so i like to hold your waist
and touch your hair, and wonder, when your fingers bend,
if you could loosen up. i know you didn't say it and that
you don't know i know it:
yes i am standing off but sending signals
through my hands, and even when i palm your chest
you can come forward
if just because i know you like to move-
and while i'm lost, if you ask me where i'm going,
i'll take your recommendations for places
to stay.

a room with three mirrors

i withdraw my membership from
public service and appearances, i am taking
an extended leave and a bath -
there was nothing out there
for me but dirt and dust and now
i'm stuck scrubbing surface skin over
and over again over
and over again
over and
over and
over.

words for the familiar

i once felt your teeth
knew your lap
smelled your breath
stepped on your feet.
i folded your laundry and ate your food,
you reached over and drank
from my drink.

i, before today,
knew better the bottom
of your chin,
the buds you
wouldn't share with me and the
way your knees
bent around my ribs,
your big fingers hooked
beneath them-

i learned not to
be bothered by the use
of my bones
as handles-
i, sorrowfully forgetful
once felt your teeth
when i was tempted by the use
of your mouth
as home.