in an instant
the blood runs
& the eyes shut
& the lungs shriek for air.
you ask how i’m feeling,
& i respond
whatever the opposite of weightless is.
& what a sick & sadistic
symphony silence performs.
how strange a song
held breaths compose.
of course
you reject the music & instead
insist on an orchestra of heartbeats & pressed lips
& i make no sound
except the frantic arrangement of tremors & gasps
like the percussion of
skyline & sea
& you glide your fingers along my thigh
& i wonder
if this is how it feels
to will away gravity. again
you ask how i’m feeling,
& i croak out an ensemble of worship
two octaves above my natural voice.
what a brief & beautiful rhythm lust is —
to chant crescendos of tension
& drown in the downbeat.
i tell you i fear the ocean;
you say you’re a strong swimmer.
we kiss,
& for six seconds
i believe it.
