Another
perfect thing
that shouldn’t
have ever
happened
is gone again.

“I never know
what to do
with my knees,”
she smiled then,
she was riding me.

When we
are finished,
she looks like
she will shatter,
fragile smile still
plastered.

“Do you see how
careful I am with my
subjunctives?”
And I do.

You are careful
enough that you
are perfectly
numbed when
you find what to do
with your knees,
with your fingers,
your arms and legs,
and the rest of you too;

perfectly numbed as you
amputate them from me.