I can still remember

Every detail

Of our trip to Japan

That we’ll never take



You tell me

I can get clean

If I just stand

In the smoke


From the bridges

We’ve burned between us.


So I do as you say –

Stand coughing

And naked

And exposed –


And am cured.


You punched me once.

A normal hit,

One that should have bruised

Or maybe cracked a rib.


But you forgot that I am paper,

That someone took my flesh and blood

And left a cutout.


Your hand passed straight through,

Tearing my parchment organs apart,

Papyrus bones shattering into dust.

And we both stopped —

You couldn’t even look at me

Just pulled back,

Shreds of pulp clinging

As you fled the scene.


I took shoji

And did my best to cover up

The you-shaped cavern in me.


Now you’re back,

And the every-day way

You move your fingers

Looks just like

Your fist

Going through



The only thing I know for sure

Is that you’re broken

And I’m broken

And I wanted us to touch each other

And see the broken bits

And make kintsugi out of them,

Create Beauty out of Broken.


But you broke me instead.


We never finished those DVDs.  I don’t know that we ever will.

You came back into my life with no explanation, no apology.

You shake when I get too close to asking about what happened.


I still miss the boy you were.  I don’t know this stranger who wears his face.

Please come back.


I want to fuck you outside, in the grass, under the late Spring sun.  I want to feel the earth beneath my back as you enter me, as I watch clouds scud across a sky whose blue isn’t quite your eyes (but almost).  I want to ride you while we listen to the buzzing of bees and breathe in lavender.  I want to feel the sun on my breasts while we move together.

Just us.

Surging like the seas we are.