I once dove into your heart.
I carried you with me through the sea
and time gobbled us up like
h’ors d’oeuvres at a dinner party.
We are carnivorous creatures,
wading out into high grass
to find the meatiness of the best ****.
(**** them with your cling and your clenching hands)
If you could swallow my love whole,
it would take you alive
and turn you inside out before me.
If time and space did not stand between us
like a dividend from the karma corporation
for all those nasty things we’ve done,
I would place my hand on your dimpled skin
and tell you that your flesh gives me breath
and your shoulder touching my cheek
keeps me alive.

I wait for our clocks to run out
for you to open the last door left
and turn to run, because
I want-need-have-hope too much.
You’re all gnashing teeth and curt words.
Whole canid, hackles raised, throat full
of gravel.
Keeping mark and claim
around wrist and throat.
I hear our time ticking in my chest;
“Hush, hush,” you say, “it’s not a countdown.”
But I feel notches along each rib
Where tiny clocks keep time of us.
So, I grasp your arms and pull
hoping you’ll jump in and wind them
at my breastbone before
the world rips you back out
and every one chimes
on me.