One-Dimensional

The first time I let myself admit I love you was in a poem.
I can't voice the words
but somehow they fit in verse.

I wish you loved me back -

Me, with a heating pad, complaining about my period
Sleeping for 14 hours because we need to adjust my meds (again)
Giving my son a bath
burning cookies
kneading bread
Domestic.

Instead, I think you love
me, with a book and a highlighter
undressed to the waist,
prone on the bed
reading some dull intellectual text,
with your fingers buried in me up to the knuckle
your hands around my neck.

I hope Good Earth us is happy -
     because this sucks.

Two Poems

feedback

It’s a strange loop.

I like the way you like

The way I like how you look at me.

The fugue intensifying until my ears are ringing

And your eyes are dark and distant.

Somehow, I have been distracting you.

At a volume you describe as ‘cacophonous’

When the only sound is your thumb drumming on my ankle.

You leave the room, and I want you more.

Suddenly I am back at the beginning of this

Mobius strip that I have been treading,

Hoping, futilely, that if I walk it carefully enough

I will end up somewhere new.

Maybe I would step off onto that Good Earth

(different than yours, I know)

Housed behind the event horizon of some imploding star

Like the one that sits quietly in my chest while I cry myself to sleep.  

Or the one that steals all the light from your eyes which are

Just across the couch (the bed, the console)

A million light-years away,

Silent.

The feedback is ear-splitting.

that arm

The stretch of that arm
muscle, shoulder, back
flesh
    slips
beneath my hands
this texture
i can’t describe
your skin.

That smell, not soap
in my hair
those hands grasp
objects and my fingers
with purpose and delicacy
    respectfully   
you open the door

and i enter.