hunger and the turning into

You were so hungry, you said let's eat.

so I dipped in my hand

(blood)

letting in

the honey of our hearts.

Up to my elbows then

I asked you

how can I turn my hands into things that can hold?

Just long enough to reach your mouth

fast enough to move this sweetness

without spilling

I spun around quick like the wind

and you said

slowly

my love

do it slowly.

(here

we took the in-between spaces

made dreams from reality

in the morning--
made rain

You reached into my body

extending into the deepest part of me

one finger, two fingered

the bend of your knuckles

smoothed like the swell of

a mandolin ocean

           my spine

                    curved

                      and I felt

                 my own
     
           fertility

in the place the anatomy textbooks
called potential

like it wouldn't exist until it grew
a baby.

What's growing now isn't children

but a sweet awareness

of the divinity
               in my hips.

Birthing nothing but

a wet power
like dirt,

like the sea

     rocking in

          to your hands.

You are not my prisoner,

and therefore,

not mine to let go

still so,

still.

still

our movements

hold

the fine palpitations
of your heart

strong

your blood

your skin

strains against it

in delicacy

your pulse

rises

delicate

falls

delicate

across state lines,

indelicately,

my words crash against my lips.

Wish

I held my breath as long as I could

through the tunnel though the light was dim
ahead and I am not practiced at the art of

holding my breath and waiting.