You had to learn to ask
to find a way
to ask, but not with words:
Indirectly and usually
not aloud
was how you asked.
If the person said yes, you’d
know because suddenly you’d
be doing it:
Mixing streams that connected
parts inside of you,
like an internal
marionette, your lips
suddenly strung
to your crotch,
skin to your heart – Oh
how the kisses pulled
in new ways, Oh
how the kisses changed
everything. How high
the stakes became,
by which I mean the losses,
by which I mean
those who you wanted
but could not have – sometimes
because the asking went wrong,
sometimes
because you spoke different languages.
But remember those
times when it worked out:
How you got the asking
right, how perfectly indirect
by which I mean, direct
you were, how directly
understood, directly accepted,
How the moment before this kiss
a faith --
Remember the strings’ quake,
tangle, remember
remember
And how for weeks
you were knotted inside
How
did we ever walk
when we were like that,
and Do we ever come
untangled?
