another shapeshifter living among the digital masses
  • every morning at 9 am,

    5
    scissors
    October 17th, 2009cripchickwriting/poetry

    i wrap my hand around her
    skinny denim thigh
    preparing myself for what will
    come next

    today i notice how loud both our lungs
    heave
    our breathing has a pattern of its own,
    complete synchronicity

    new partners in a familiar dance
    we are always in experiment
    gliding, sidestepping,
    mixing new techniques with old maneuvers

    we could do this with eyes closed. bodies pressed against each other. hands waiting patiently in case guidance is needed. but dislocated hips, sore muscles and occasional miscalculations of space-body-fatigue-location make it otherwise. each day is a detailed study of her swing of arm, my shift in weight, any step taken out of order. there is always a constant desire to improve our performance.

    she goes back to pushing down & i press my arm even harder against her flesh. this old trunk throws out its branches, reaching for any kind of balance
    she notices my uneasiness and pulls me into her

    my face brushed up against her chest, i see again the fresh scar
    she hides.
    when will she trust that this is one place she doesn’t have to cover?
    surely she sees all of mine.

    we continue to wrestle
    pelvis fighting cotton, spine confronting buckle, body resisting the assimilation that comes with wearing clothes. arms join forces while legs watch idly by, refusing to offer up help or take sides

    finally we are victorious and i am dressed,
    ready for the day. back in my chair i thank her,
    curious if she too sees how poetic our caregiving
    routines can be

 

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