It was a head-on collision without a proper introduction
the way we met.
Certain that it was destiny
pioneered by past lives,
we were children on a tilt-a-wheel
dizzy and in constant revolution.
Adrift in our primal ocean,
sex was elemental—phosphorus:
so volatile we ignited without warning
so inviolate we needed a centrifuge to separate us
You carried me to bed with but one request:
“Look at me when you come.”
After
You drew me close and I burrowed deeper.
Snug under the soundproof quilt of your chest
eavesdropping on your heart,
I kept time with the double beats
from this choicest spot.
I will forgo my wanderings ways, I pledged.
Retire my tap shoes for a step-ball-chained
to a cul-de-sac
But those very words
deprived me of some vital elixir.
Our acrobatics took an anagrammatic turn–
Listen became silent
In the laboratory incubator, I turned the stethoscope on myself
only to discover that the life-giving surge
had been replaced by a faint pulse,
shrouded in a nimbus of grief.
Looking closely, I saw that the sheets
we fashioned into shapes were hollow,
sewn in place by amorous amateurs
who forgot to secure the ends of a thread.
I left you a note and a proxy, realizing
we could share lust, but not a life.
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