three sixty five times three

(A poem can begin with a lie. Adrienne Rich)



I do not love you, never did,

which is to say I love you more

than most things most days like

maybe more than me most days

but I’m working to hold us both

in my mind, alive in a tight-hearted clasp

at the same time.


Hold me as I rage.

Please hold me.

I know it’s not fair, I know

but the littlest parts of me

won’t stop guttural screaming.

I know

you can’t stop it. It’s not fair to ask

(but I ask.)


I am a beast-thing,

a mad monster-child.


I am trying to find your hand in

a world I never

knew could live in me,

the world I felt on a mattress in Bushwick once.



You animal.

You animal.

(by you, I mean me.)



Which is to say I’ve already found your

hand, am gripping that hot thing,

I am gripping so not to lose your

hand my



I feel (god)dess here,

when our hands find each other,

even in a flash of a moment,

I feel it.

I find the fresh sprouts of yarrow growth here

it’s frond like, feather like fingers

all reaching out.

all reaching out,

all getting inside my gut my throat my.


(Wound healer)


I have never wanted to love something I

could lose

so easily, so slithery,

this love like that snake behind

your own-kissed shoulders

in an old image I got through


Slithery and yet, this love

is rooted down deep, down in the earth,

down in your hands and mine

in the earth.


(Can I break this thin film of the abstract without wounding myself of you? Adrienne Rich)


Which is to say, will you try

to live in this hand container with me?

We can leave and

come back

now that we know what it feels like.

I’m willing to learn how to slip between skins

(I’m willing to learn how.)

Try to find me in that place that is

familiar and unfamiliar all at once.


If I could give you one


three hundred and sixty five times three later,

it would be for you to know

that all

the tiniest parts in me

love all those tiniest parts in you.



When I say I love you I mean

I wanna see you get wild,

get free.

Hold yourself in front of yourself,

shake and spread like all the wishes that

breeze out

of a changing shape dandelion,

when it turns into

something else.



Can I be a beast-thing,

a monster-child

and love you without wounding?

Can I try,