by Ronnie K. Stephens
Everything about us fits
like two keys for one chest
one chest opening to make
a space large enough for all
the fear we carry. I cherish
most the way our hands knew
the first time they touched.
Our lips, too, met like old lovers.
The rest of us a dozen volcanoes
determined not to go dormant
until our bodies are red and hot
and empty, my shoulders covered
in your explosion, teeth like small
craters. A history that aches
for days after you leave. Your ribs
and hips carry our night sharp
bruised and wanting for one more
chance at uninventing this impossible
distance between my pulse and yours.
I tell you I feel your pulse at the tip
of my finger. You flex and unflex
against my knuckles. I wonder
if you know how good my imagination
is. How with each flex my hips flinch.
I hear you tell me to come. Your voice
already a familiar song I sing to myself
for weeks—at the grocery store, folding
clothes, at the gym. Everywhere
you are with me, telling me to come.
I am already home.
Ronnie K. Stephens is the author of Universe in the Key of Matryoshka, They Rewrote Themselves Legendary, and The Kaleidoscope Sisters. He joins the many artists calling for a Free Palestine and an end to genocide in every corner of the world.