my body is a door
a hole,
an opening.
Your hand lives there.
and it died there.
a grave.

slowly, i swim against you
through you
earthworm, soil.

and
eyes,
eyes,
eyes
rock like ocean in my throat.
i was always seasick as a child.

because to be in this body is to be unsteady.
skin and blood never stay still.

i always feel nauseous when i kiss.

But
not-remembering is magic
because still the story lives
in the rhythms
of my blood.
just a glimmer of a fish,
in the ocean
of my body.


a distance,
a song,
ago.

like a cage door,
a shutter in my heart gapes
open
and
i stammer, caught.