~ happened to ~

Sometimes you think you are water, and able to flow through

all places, through everyone, and not stay: let him in without

keeping him, or anything solid from his touch

except a ripple, an echo of the way your body parted

around his (tracing of the space he took up) so close

to you, in you without belonging, possessing you

without owning – just teeth in the moment

when you struggle, shaking for him to bind you harder,

tighter. (Lash me to the bedpost, slowly, make the cinching

last. What you want can sometimes

be what I want). Into my flesh, beat this goodbye,

into me (once the pronoun twists, no finding

our way back – it is so dark and I

tremble). I won’t pull away. It will be like diving – the force

of hands falling rushing up waves to lick your crushing

weight. And when he has left (when you

are gone), I’ll have the bruises

to show for it. (longing). To show I am not

water. I am blood rising to the edge of skin. And you did

not hurt me – you just happened to be there, that’s all.