Sometimes
He touches
Me like
I’m his child,
Instead of his
Lover,
A finger
Under
My chin
A slick nail
Against my
Cheek.
It unnerves
Me like a
Loose thread
Around my
Toes.

Sometimes
He slaps
The curve
Of my back.
I swear
A cleaved
Nerve or  
Slithering
Disk
Must hold
Right there
The way
His hello
Makes me
Close my eyes.
But I see
My sister’s spine
Arch too.

Sometimes
She goes in
For a hug
So wide
You could park
An RV
In there
So loath
I wonder if
I smell.
To think
There was
A time
I knew
Her heartbeat
From the inside.

Sometimes
He pokes
His little finger
In my belly
Button
Retracing
Our severed
Union
A intrusion
Of the center
Of the universe
Where every
Sign post
Says
Turn around.

We are all
In such a
Contact
Drought
There’s no
Reason
I should be
Resisting
Still
Sometimes
I want you
To touch
Me
Differently.