take the press of your lips
to my throat, angry nails
carving my shoulders into cave walls, take
the hieroglyphs across my back
painted with your mouthbrush and tongue;
take the night i said it in so many words,
how you held me–
how you held me later and your tongue
said want without vocal cords
take the tremble of my smile
as you lay sleeping in oatmeal–
take, too, my first gasp
as you slid hurtful and precious already
inside me–
everything from me, if it can be temporary,
take it, but please
don’t take your backpack into the house.
we can’t leave without you.
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