you jog across the street
against the light
smiling and brilliant
to get to me

to wrap your arms around me
to touch my arm 
my waist
and lead me into central park 
in the wrong direction

let’s go this way

and I followed you
and I would again

happily, eagerly, 
instinctually

you were sitting across from me At porchlight and you 
were so far away my Hands were covered in tequila and 
candied ginger They were making this sticky
smacking sound Everytime I pressed them together and pulled them Apart 
you put your hand up because you wanted to know 
what it Felt like my hands didn’t make the sound when they 
were on either side of your hand but it didn’t Matter because you 
had offered yourself up to be Touched by Me I was touching 
you your Skin and bones Instead of feeling your hand Float 
over my back Through my shirt

I could Feel it The moment my hands pressed 
on either side of yours noise Rushed in to fill 
the silence the first silence - Which wasn’t 
silence at all it was corporate chatter My heartbeat in my throat Both of us 
staring at your hand Sandwiched by both of mine 

and the Sound of something deep unEarthly unstoppable rushing through me

sew your body into mine

palm to palm

hips to hips

your tongue    

to my teeth

your mouth

to mine

stitch us together again

I’ll rip them out

later

back in Brooklyn

​

you won’t even have to watch.

you say

do you have more freckles than I remember?

I don’t know

I’ve never seen my own face

you tell me.

i asked you once
what you were thinking and you said
sometimes you ask me that
and im just thinking your name over 
and over

if you’d wanted I
would have cracked my 
chest open so you 
could crawl inside

i.

the first night

or second or third

depending on how you count

—when we kissed for an hour

outside of the duane reade

on 14th street—

the feeling was so big

i made you stand up from the stoop

and walk

because i couldn’t

sit still

i stared at my hands holding your shirt,

i said i can’t even look at you

and you said wait no—

look at me

and i did.

​

 ii.

sometimes i pause

before i speak

to think

of what and how to say and

you said you could live

in that moment

forever

you said

you’ve been hanging on

to every word since

the day

we met.

iii. 

you sat on my kitchen counter

while i made cookies

took my hand

sucked melted chocolate

from my finger.

​

 iv.

i told you i was

scared

and beating myself up

for feeling anything

that wasn’t happiness

and you said

i’m learning that

i’m learning that—

it’s everything.

​

v.

you kiss me, my mouth—

against my eyelids I see

fresh snow, everywhere.

​

 vi.

once i was in your bed and you said

when i kiss you

can you tell how I feel

i don’t always have the words

that’s why sometimes i just

think your name

over and over

i said i can

i can tell.

​

 vii.

i sat between your legs and

told you i felt

like a failure and

you told me

you wanted to be there

for me through

big things.

​

 viii.

i said

you are so kind

and so gentle

and so patient

with me

you held my face

in your hands

and said that’s how

i want to love you.

​

ix.

we are sitting

on a park bench

i ask you

what you want

you keep saying

i don’t know saidie

i don’t know

and i say

if you’re ending this can you

please

just say that

you rub my knee and

rub my knee

and rub my knee

and you still

can’t say it

all i can think

is why the fuck

are you still

touching me?

​

 x.

sometimes i am so angry with you

i don’t know

what to do

with my hands.

​

xi.

in the room with you i am

a monster—

dark blue, spiky and

venomous,

brittle and raging,

feeling my guts leap

through my throat

into my outstretched

hands.

​

 xii.

when we used to talk

on the phone

i would hang up glowing and

swirling and

breathless

like i didn’t know how

to be in my body

without your body

to press myself against

to know where i ended—

if i called now it would be

mostly just

to hear you

say my name.

​

xiii.

i told you how

one halloween

when i was a child

i went as a ladybug

in a costume my mother

made for me

you stopped dead and

put your face in your hands

and said i need a second

and then asked if

my costume had had wings.

​

xiv.

if i could,

i would take it back

i would give it up—

to be able to walk

into a room

with you in it,

to walk up to you

and say hi—

to look at you

and for you 

to look back.