this river feels like chaos, bashing my awkward frame until i become not an animal but a spine that hurts, shoulders are not wings, hips are not magic, when i dream i touch your arms with such lightness and intensity, wanting to feel without the clammy grip, seeking out the delicate hollows where skin lies over tendon and vein.
this is confusing. you cannot know. i want to bite you, you thing in the river i cling to, let me tell you a story:
once there was a girl who was
good enough, and strong enough