as the tents of kedaryou were the romans.as the tents of kedar by sweetie-you-had-me
you turned me into a cross on your bed. it was night.
i could see how, when the light hit you, your skin
would turn into a heaven. i could not move my hands. you brought
me water, brought me wine, brought me your skin up
to my mouth. we made our own eden. without temptation,
without denial leaking in.
you were the.
you left. left me cold and naked and humble,
with the indentation of your body curved like an arc
beside me. i thought i had died.
three days later, i waited to resurrect. i imagined it,
how i would rise from the mountainside, half divine. my
skin lighting up like early morning.
how you would kneel kissing my feet, how you would
smile on the ground, how you'd reach out to touch my
robe as thought it were holy.
the three days became a week, became a month.
became three months. i was alive. i felt my blood
making sublime paths through my body, felt my lungs
expand. you came back,
blood on your hands, spine uneven, eyes wild like
a hunter. you sme
lay me downthe night fell heavily. you sat,lay me down by sweetie-you-had-me
with your legs pulled up to your chest.
you sat with your reflection gliding
over the ocean waves.
the cove; the harem of
shells and fish; the jetties
that brought you out further than
eyes could take you,
moved you in ways
you could not understand.
and you sang, throwing your voice
up to the rusted moon. the melody
carried out to the cities, to some
distant mythic shores. sang to the holy mother,
sang about her and her beauty and her words.
your words dancing out to the mermaids'
grove. you took my hand.
mine felt like glass. yours was warm; softly
pedagogic; clearly masculine; carved
from granite. i thought you
a lighthouse. you spit out
syllables, that rolled around
on the seafloor, among
the seaweed and scuttling
crabs, ran to
the starfish and stars,
your breath moved like the tide
curled like a current.
your breath was a current;
my body, a circuit, my body
the ocean floor.
what do you rememberWhat do you remember? The rush of cold air and yellow light. What do you remember? The look through lowered lashes, inviting him in. What do you remember? Tossing my cross on the floor. Why? Because I didnt need it. Why? Because I had something else to pray to. What do you remember? I turned the lights off. Then what? He kissed me. Could you repeat that, louder this time? He kissed me. You let him? Yes. Raise your eyes, please, could you face the jury? Yes, I let him. What do you remember? His hands down my bed, flexing towards his fingers like a cat in heat. What do you remember? Uncovering his skin, moving up his shirt as though undoing a riddle. Then what? He pushed me back, on my bed. What do you remember? His weight. Say that louder, please, speak into the microphone. His weight on me, like something made of stones. What do you remember? Leaving, then coming back. Where was he then? On my bed, waiting. For what? For me. What do you remember? Taking my shirt off, dropping itwhat do you remember by sweetie-you-had-me
the things that are not taughti have known his body,the things that are not taught by sweetie-you-had-me
biblically, with the tongues
of greek philosophers.
i have known his body.
i have seen his blood
flow in a maze of wires. i have seen his blood
rise up just beneath his skin, pool
into bruises. my teeth have
marked his body, have pressed
trails into his torso, so that every time i am lost
i can find my way home.
i have known his body
it sings like a bluebird in the early morning.
i have heard his ribs being plucked
by invisible hands until he is whispering ave maria.
every note is holy and they have resonated
within me. i have known every note of his body. they
are pure and as clear as crystal held up to the sun.
and i have known this ground,
the dirt is warm, the sky is wide
the leaves move against each other softly, softly.
in the distance, the light moves through the trees
like a huntress. i have known this ground. i have laid him
there, as though putting a child to rest.
there are ashes in the grass. i can
still taste the fire. he opens up his mou