by Anna Kerr
Your thumb is moving back and forth (and back and forth)
on the back of my hand like a metronome,
providing a rhythm for my heart to match,
which it does,
but occasionally it skips a beat because
you are looking at me like I am something precious
and I am trying not to quickly retreat but instead to stay,
holding the weight of your affection in my palm
like something precious.
together, we submerge ourselves in
the puddle of yellow light that leaks in through the window,
we delight in our new conditions and
grow up the wall like ivy, intentionally entangled,
with our limbs braided and our skin sun-thirsty
I think about how I have never felt so safe laid bare against another,
I can see that you have transformed my quietness into
a Mystery Worth Unpicking and
my impenetrability into a Minor Inconsequence for you to
peel back slowly, like a ready-to-come-off-Band-Aid,
and you are right,
I feel the wound may have healed and
your patience is love and
I have never felt more safe.