I am the little spoon again.


We've lasted months this time
and I've begun re-learning how to breathe,
pulling the oxygen past my lungs
and downing the air.


I think this is what it takes
to tangle myself into another human being.


That
and sixty four inches of strangled skin
leaving him with excess
while I don't have enough;
four limbs, ten fingers
and millions of billions of skin cells.
We have worked out something extraordinary,
we have worked out something difficult
and

In my unconsicousness at night,
he drawls off-key fragments of Al Green
for my eardrum, barracading my cerebellum
pawning notes for metaphors,
Putting pressure on me
and breaking something.
  

In the mess of
teased hair
combed lips
and
knotted limbs,
something dies. Something majestic dies.

I think I have just tangled myself into another human being.