who do you think I am?

I have only been sincere

who do you think I am?

dragging your feet in the sand
cramming fingers in both ears

to stop that noise, that mess of cymbals
but you know where that noise is coming from

I want to see your hands
I want to see you sweat
force them
to be still

I wonder who you think I am
I have only been in love
some poor spectator, through this dark glass

I want to see your eyes
I want to see you take it in

off your tongue
onto my lips

I am so loud
cry and beg and cry some more
you withdraw
compos mentis of enlightened quiet
like
slamming anvil of beyond-earth silence

I only offered myself
bits and pieces, thoughts and thoughts
a nail, a hair, a leg torn off

thrown into the hole we bought

but what sepulcher returns in good
and who do you think I am,
and what have we done to be in love,
and where will I go when we use it up?

from behind the dotted line
that I envisioned

the upswing of human fear
and tending to be naked in it

to climb over the dotted line

to sink in and in

speaking as a child
understanding as a child
thinking as a child
waiting to be pulled to the air

if it will never feel quite right to want
I'll wait until I am wanted

and if the moment never comes, I