2 kings 4:34

i sleep next to a man

to large to swallow.

he is intimate with

the seasons and turns

thieves of joy into ash.

his sweat is the rain i

taste on my lips. his

body is the mountains,

his eyes the oceans

where hurricanes are

born. i wish to be the

dreams he lives inside

me. he is the window

to my duration, the

music in my veins. i

will be polite when he

sees me and pretends

to be blind, or deaf

to the tears i cry out

loud. when beaten

down by society’s

thrashing, he hasn’t

hesitated to raise

me from the dead.

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