I will contract around you.
I will pour beneath the sand
and place little teethmarks between your toes
so I can say I’ve hurt you,
so I can say I’ve ravished you,
so I can say I’ve left my mark,
so I can say I’ve owned you.
I will float upward when you breathe in,
I will dance clumsily when you exhale,
and when you stand perfectly still
you can find me under your fingernails
and not a threat
I will nestle in all of you,
and your eyes will close
and you lips pursed
with all your curses and blessings
and lusts and rages,
all your begging and all your begging,
like pieces of eight
rolling over and under stormy cascade tongue
but never rolling onto a shore,
not for my sake.
I have erected every bone
and every page
as pillars for your triumph,
and my arms are nets to catch your flightlessness
for the wax melting off your back
as you rise into yourself.
Birdsong rings for you,
birdsong rings for you!
And so do every portion of me,
softly, as a background testament
that I have upended the First Commandment