for david.

17 10 2014

In my memory

i hold fast to the sensation

of your skin

running fast and equally achingly slow under my fingernails

down your brilliant, curvilinear back

and the sound you made

inarticulate, spread clear

from your throat

you will never know

ever

how divine

your sounds are.

But I hope you do.

I have never

felt so close

to anyone

ever

in my life.

I recall

getting out of my fucked-up car

that I drove on a wing and a prayer

to a place i didn’t know anyone would be.

And rounding the corner,

barely able to see out my bug-splattered windscreen,

I saw you.

On the corner.

got out of the car, looked into your eyes

and fell

a million leagues

into something so safe and real

it defies one really falling into it

but I did nonetheless.

You….are…my…

Look. I’ll just be eight year old here, ok?

You are my christmas.

whatever you did to me

spiralled me into a place

where I can’t even feel the Doppler beginnings or endings of time

where I fade into your grey-blue eyes

and lay still

even as we go for a walk

and joke about the idiots we pass.

I don’t know how to say it–

a woman, myself

possessed by insecurity

but when I was with you

I could face any monster.

Killed every insect in your house.

Walked unafraid

Growled down ghosts and creatures in the bleak darkness

Strode boldly into the blackness

If I thought they had come for you.

defend you with my life, a knife between my teeth.

anything that came too close to you.

I defended you.

Prowled your perimeters, set up boundaries.

They are still there, my lines in the sand.

I have staying power.

Most women

don’t say these words.

But I recall looking down at you

spread atop you,

a raging, sopping sweaty mess,

just having heard those sounds–

the sweet brutal delectable sounds you make–

as clear as day

and you looking up at me

and the both of us thinking,

“this can’t be happening.”

“Have some grape juice…?”


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