From Underwater

No one is ever able to feel how farwe swim. How fast knives scrape skin.

Plasma in water is still crimson.I never knew what logic was for anyway.

At 12, I belly-flopped my stomach raw,just to learn to dive.

We chew slowly. Savordessert, when we glide to the center

of this table and lie so closeour whispers devour each other's devotion.

There is no learninghere. I have already done that.

My mouth commits the felonies fingerscannot. We sacrifice our hands for this.

After the Illness Came I Went

Skinny as my spine,a silhouette,a bare branch.I don't know

where it came fromonly, how it left mescarred, translucent.Disease sliced

flanks of fleshas if hipswere butterand suddenly

there were thousandsof men to feed.Invisibilitywas a needle,

needles manageable.A zipped torsointo linen,into leather. Even

the afternoon windfelt like itwas lifting me;I could lean

into it, and itwould carry meback to beforesteel or cold.

Before I knewall the waysthat this bodycan forsake me.

Congenitus

For Grace

We are called mineral,gravel. We come heavyfrom palms that pounddough. From the depths

of black water, gills of fish,marrow. We come from oil.We are called sunlighton tennis courts, sweat.

Earth-rising fault linesthat shake, from limbslike snakes. Carrot seedand basil, summer,

and all things holy.Lace tablecloths,sob stories, salted cod,an empty field

for a front yard.We are called broken bootsand floodplains. The bottomof a well; dark, and damp,and misty. We stand

upright in our home.Sweep the floor,

unlock the doors.There is already

an open window. It is safeto let the night breeze in.