half stripes : half spots

and i could not imagine

how lovely you were to be

and how hours could pass

without regard

in the space you hold between us

the warm spot

between the warm ones

in our three sleeper bed.

writing in permanent marker.

We are moved to a new room.

The carpet is soft underfoot

Baby has space to run about.

I live with two men I love.

I am lucky.

But as always I am aware.

You see this space as semi permanent

as I prepare a home.

slipping into the familiar.

and there is no excuse to be made for why

we lie in the beds we make

and turn and toss in those sheets

heads and hearts a mess with

some strange tenderness

fold and unfold yourself into

this

continually asking yourself

the same questions

scars.

you are scarred

and i am a plaster

that hopes to cover you

even though the scar had healed over

like any other scar would do

i cover still the space

the wound that was

once split and sore

how long will i be so useless?

a.C.i.D

i have to trust you for the next five to seven hours

as i will be under the influence of something i am not familiar with

i hope you do not lead me to the sea and drown my weary bones

or take me to the forest and leave me to wonder

i hope you do not leave me by the roadside

or let me burn in some strange fire

i hope you do not feed me to the strange wolves

but most of all

i hope you do not even realise

i am to trust you for the next five to seven hours.

red thread.

is it best to love without regard?

Or

to love with complete knowing?

still i wonder,

how is it so perfect

between the others.

how is it they fit

as though

they have spent their lives

growing into the shapes

and colours they are

and in perfect unison

they move forward

content in the promise and security of the other

i long for separation from the self

separation from the burning need of understanding and adoration

separation from the continual pull toward that which in turn

will endure some sad form of separation

yet in that i fear even more

the truth of Merwin's words

Separation

Your absence has gone through me  

Like thread through a needle.  

Everything I do is stitched with its colour