writ
writ in in the aftermath of
your fingers smooth against the nape of my neck;
a smile curled, like ferns
in the sea, pressing tight into
a careful heart-
beat; one tries not to yield.
the best part is that we do yield, easily, but not without some trickery.
of course, the other part of this is what comes next. This question that looms suddenly and confronts me with a blankness that I have no definition for. One moment I was looking at a puzzle and the next, I was told nothing was possible; the next, I get the sense that we are standing at the edge of something. something frightening.
people want to be individuals and want to belong, you said. do you? I asked. god, no, you said. and
after all--me now--can I imagine evenings of routine, getting used to waiting for you, seeing you?
with any relationship, one asks, why are you in it? becoming part of something larger than you, a couple, contains a universe of worlds and souls in it-it swallows up another's future and plots a singular path in a straight trajectory, forever bound, to one other.
that is, unless this union plays curveball.