tagNon-Erotic Poetryhe might have said

he might have said


not the candy not the
gibbon family swing or polar bear splash
but this inflatable room
closed, hum, darkened, it sinks in and covers
we jump and we jump and the laughing!
it is too much perfection to ever leave-
but always
always they call me out
and they call me
out always too soon
they do not understand

and Mother tells me
come this way
and Mother tells me
it is finished it is
she signs with her fingers
speaks slowly
she counts backwards
from five
she tells me
come, come here sweetheart

But I know she means
the place where big sounds bring pain
of squint eye lights and vertigo smells
air touches skin air touches skin
like firework fingers

and they wonder why the screams
why the screams and pulling why
prone refusal across the walk

she must know desperate begging
just put me out
put me out let me out
take you with me
under fingernails and fists
go back back into
the place it was good it was good

she just holds on
holds on
kisses cheek
whisper counts to twenty
we breathe
she holds tighter
holds my pieces together
until they slow down enough
I fall into myself
she carries me through hell

it’s okay baby
it’s okay baby
it’s okay baby

her back strains
under my weight
I am not small

bury all senses in her neck
under hair under her skin
breathe the first scent
dark warm muted

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