swimming with you

At night I go in search of you
asking my bedsheets to transform into flesh
or hills that i could move through
like the city blocks to you,

your skin to me is a shore
my hands are ten sailors on two fragile boats
i tuck into the sand. it is wet
and forms around me. i use my binoculars
to find your eyes; they are the tide,
your lashes swing their waves
to sink me.

Like the Spring

mother culture told me that refuge is other bodies
that when i transform it will be through word promises
strung by hand between bodies in twos

but i want to transform like the blossoms in the spring
i will find one shimmering summer to sing for
then throw my petals to the asphalt
before that summer comes.

A Kitchen Scene

My body is a drawer of knives
spilled onto the floor
in my childhood home.
Nobody is in the room
I am too young
and I cannot tell the handles
from the blades.