Moments ago the image of you reaching out for my face was so vivid I could smell your fingers. I woke up to my own hand instead, saturated with the scent of your hair the night before and a single strand still dancing between my fingers. I fell back asleep for a breath and a half before waking up in the playground we laid under the moonlight. It rained and my hair was dripping but I got up on those bars and gripped and flexed and released and spiraled on each metallic tightrope as if it were the rooftops I told you about. This is what makes me feel like you when that little twister starts spinning around your head before making its way down your neck, your stomach, and nesting on your left side; fluttering all the while until your eyes close.
For me it’s fierce —
like the sun today, painting my body
like a wave crashing on a rock
turning my sternum into an ember
spiraling into my spine
my hips turn into a vortex
my legs become infinity
We must have left something there last night because the rain kept drawing silhouettes through the grating.
Ten more reps…
Whatever you drew on my chest tickled at the end of every breath.
Push and pull… Spin over the top.
The rain was cold but my body burned as if the air were on fire.
One more time… Don’t let the feet touch the ground…
I felt unstoppable.
I want to feel like I’m flying through the trees forever…
I won’t fall.