Shared Space

1
When the breeze slips in the open window
and touches our skin
and we're wearing our softest shirt;
when our homework is already done;
when the coffee has cooled,
and the cats stretch their paws
just so
close our eyes for a moment:
all this is acceptable.

2
We lie as quietly in the dark
as batteries in a drawer.

I hope to never decentralize our shared nervous
systems.
I once thought that looking too closely at the seam,
at the stitches across our veins
could lead to a certain type of death;
on the whole, I prefer not to dwell
on my insides.

Remember: all the times
we saw the whole thing taut,
near torn
and knew that we could destroy
it with a word,
could rip the threads
of history and affection;
leave them for the movers
to discard.

This year, however
I saw romance in the labor,
the patchwork attachment
but I think:
lean close
to let the tension out
and add another stitch. 

3
Inside the first thing
is a fourth thing
and she says
in the interest of fairness, I tell
you this: if you mention pogs
again, I will
leave you.