because there are few things as pseudoprofound
when we are front to back.
perhaps it’s the vulnerability;
the fact that you could slide a knife quietly up into my ribs and watch
as I gently shudder and gasp
or perhaps it’s that I can feel your heart
beating into my back
a soft murmur which, like
reminds me that you’re alive;
perhaps it’s that.
when you are wrapped around,
I feel like saying
that you’re my home
that you’re wonderful and should be vainglorious
and talking about the stars
and little pieces of factoid that I feel we
ought to know about each other.