by Michelle Ortega
for Joe
at sixteen
I want to slip
between
your ribs and
entwine myself
with your heart
I want to fall
asleep behind
your sternum
(to exist outside
of you just
isn’t enough)
this I remember
thirty-five years
later when again
we meet and
hold a gaze
that feels
softness
I have not
since you
unafraid
to be seen
I don’t turn
away
or even
blink
you call me
poet not
surprised
and hold my
hand as we
drive home
from the shore
purple rain now
on apple music
you don’t say
anything but
I know you
never meant
to cause
and only want
to see me laugh
and for a while
longer we do
Michelle Ortega has been published at Tweetspeak Poetry, Tiferet Journal, Exit 13, Snapdragon: A Journal of Healing, The Platform Review, Paterson Literary Review, Rust + Moth, Humana Obscura, Stillwater Review and elsewhere. Tissue Memory (Porkbelly Press, microchap, 2022) and other work featured at: www.michelleortegawrites.com