house of wounded things

this is a rescue: the way i hold your hand
and you hold mine. in the world, i show up whole.

blue paint, bleach, smoke: chemicals i use to cover up the past.
at least the smell of blood is gone.

the taste in my mouth, ochre after the noise of you is finished.
i crave, i crumble, i cum for you.

when my voice was small i used my hands.
wrapped in the truth of the body, there is nothing i can't see.

so this too: the lines of you, long and laid out in front of me, the crook of your knee, the curve of your shoulder.
the look of you: expectant, content.

an open mouth retching truth up into open: i wish now for silence, having fought so long to speak.
i never promised to be healed or whole, only that i would live.