Your Sister Brings Me an Orchard
Your Sister Brings Me An Orchard Each day after class we sit on steps together and she pulls apples from her purple backpack. We talk about impact, the body in relation to space in relation to the body. Or the body in relation to itself. The body in relation to another body. I talk circles like rings inside a tree, suggesting growth, but I’m going nowhere. I suggest things. I don’t indicate my need directly. I am more ashamed than afraid of judgment. I think about baptism. I would drown for you. I would deny my body to protect you. I crouch, walk with bad posture because I'm afraid of taking too much space. I’m afraid my body will speak ahead of me. Nights I sleep with you I bend and crease myself into the sheets the way I cover this paper with my hand.