stephanie roberts

Unmet

You love to swim & so do I. I freestyle bare ass with you first
and last.

"There is," you say "something biblical about our nakedness."
When I pull a face you add sinful to appease me.

We give thanks before the plate of each other. "In a dream," I say afterward,
anxiety thrumming like a hummingbird backing down my trachea, "In a
dream, that wrenched me wide, I saw your smallish eyes; I carved your flesh
out of the granite of the past; I took time placing the gap in your teeth; I
wrote us solid on ruled paper—bee to petal nectar, bee to petal nectar. I
pulled you through a straw forgetting bitterness seventy times seven.
Burning completion."

Always, I am gored by the ox of my confession, trampled under the bull
moose of candour, mauled wide by sabre-tooth of trust. Always. 

A ripe persimmon rolls off a picnic table onto concrete. I try to lap it up. I
try to pull my jaggeds together. I have ruined my life a number of times by
wanting. What do I need to learn from desire?

You kiss tears and foolishness free of my design. "You're an idiot." You
say, a throat full on tomorrows. "Sweet idiot."