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My Darlings

she swung her arms, as they say
with purpose, like she had nowhere to go
and was certain of it. i avoided the break
up spot. the sun wasn’t sunny there anyway
or it was too much so. it didn’t matter.
atop the grass the cider swelled

like a mosquito sucking on arteries
and i considered love versus passion versu lust.
sadie hopped on the zoom for people that piss too much
and don’t know how to stop. i wished i had an issue 
that someone could fix on a zoom. i wished i could fix things
with a sob, a sip of something, a slice of pie, a snack, a sleep.

once the dresser sat in its place the shells slithered atop it
and the book told me how sensual women should live. i sipped
advice like it was ice water. the woman lauded me for laughing
at her jokes. i found my calling. to wear a skirt, to take it off,
to put on shorts instead, a smirk in the grass worth two in the
whatever. gas tanking, clothes laundering, the sink filled to the brim

with empty bowls. discussing the potential of breaking up
alleviated the itch and we no longer yearned to ditch
our darlings. we saved the date for weddings instead.
we hugged one another metaphorically instead. we didn’t have
the kind of friendships where we touched, arms or hands
or legs, except when absolutely necessary. strangers and lovers

touched me more than anyone in between. my darlings, all,
daring each other to do something or other. to love to leave
to move a little closer. to touch the tip of a toe, to nudge the bug
landing on an arm, out of the way, a little more now. i slapped
sadie’s bicep and blood smudged on her arm and my palm.

i spit on my hand and rubbed it in the grass, a promise, a future,
a death, something borrowed, something flew

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