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  • [a sleepy response to Margaret Atwood's "You Fit Into Me"]


    each morning your kiss
    fills my lungs with exactly enough motion
    to float me
    fast through 10
    slower to noon
    molasses-heavy at 3.
    by 4, the slow exhale
    has almost emptied me;

    i am a fish drowning in air.
    my skin gleams an iridescent sheen
    that, in the sunlight,
    is a beacon that calls to you.

    each evening your kiss
    lingers metal-sharp in my mouth
    to remind me
    that my dreams are soap bubbles:
    midnight feeds them,
    at 2 they blossom only to disappear
    at the sweet, hungry moment
    of your 6 a.m. kiss.
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