Show Don’t Speak

my laughter shows you
the me buried under the storm
of my becoming

my sleepiness on your couch
sings the song of my comfort
with you

my hands in my lap
touch my neck when I think of
touching you

my respect looks like
the drive home I take
each night.

Polish

Waiting
pulling petal after petal
conditioned to linger
but never to stay

the feeling of wanted washing over my feet
wiggling my toes
rubbing away the purple lines in my skin

I watched you work
the wonderment not new
but pulling like a tractor beam

How could I have missed that kiss
with your eyes
our words exchanged like an embrace
our wrists acting as bracelets
decorating our moment as we
massage feet and fall in love

with ritual.

2.

I didn’t want to let go of your hand
as we walked you through your greatest fear.

The sand felt like it swallowed me whole
hurling pod after pod of seaweed at my ankles

tempting me to give in to anti-balance

but I felt your hand, the smooth skin, the slant of the sea
slick between our fingers, but unable to break
this bond.