Aug. 22, 6:40 pm

If we put our ribs together,
breastbone to breastbone and all the meat in between
or really the muscle, the pushing and straining,
taut-to-the-point-of-anguish threads of movement,
can we feel the contorting of each other's wet faces
enough to satisfy our sado-masochistic tendencies?

What I mean is,
all your wet eyelids resonate deep within my skull -
I want to hold each twinge preciously;
I want to obliterate each icy splinter or hurt
but half the time it is we who cause it in each other.

midnight

now is the time when everything changes.
stable to teetering barnyard, home base to
wandering outfield, flexible balance to uncontrolled contortionism, love
to stronger distancing, uncertainty to more
(but hopefully breathable) uncertainty;
and I am no longer revolving around myself.