first night
building perception
This is part 2. you can read part 1, part 3 will be out tomorrow, with part 4 on Sunday.
the first night
where I notice your breath
holds a different cadence
than your words.
I’d memorized the spacing
between your sentences—
three seconds,
one.
two..
three...
then your thought.
but your lung took longer,
hesitated on the inhale
as if you were reading something over.
the ceiling sustains your tender voice
like water in cupped palms.
We hold each others,
with such care.
Your arm across my stomach,
heavy as lineage,
getting heavier by the minutes.
my grandmother’s grandmothers,
generations ago,
is a name i don’t know.
but in four generations,
our blood could meet,
in some child’s marrow,
as in we both know,
our love exists within a subspace
that transcends the need of procreation.
lying awake at four in the morning,
when you were asleep,
my mind wonders and perform genetic math
because your shoulder blade
fits against my ribs
the way a drawer closes
when the house settles.
***