we're giving it some careful thought.
earl grey afternoons and i sleep in late.
i found a new chamber within my chest
just beneath my heart
it houses the part of me that is
railing against the tide which tugs
all of these natural disasters
holding you are holding me through
i'm gazing impotently at this cartouche
its inscrutable hieroglyphs
could be thick on the tongue
like a lead coin or smoke
like the ashes in Portia's throat.
i am knitting a shawl to keep
the naked body warm.
once i spoke of a jaundiced mind
as if it were not mine.
i was simply in wait.
Shiva moves in her sleep.
for nourishment I have chiefly been
choosing olives dusky purple and black as
leaking tar. fermented tea. i do feel
like Portia some times.
i think that a facet within me
longs to move like a shadow
but i am cumbersome flesh and heavy hair.
i can nearly hear a distant vacuum
when i am alone.
yet you are
holding i am holding you through
the apocalypse. on this bed.
if ever i am sought
there i'll be.
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