Janus

I.

We drive to Anacortes in our state of silence

bigger than our island, bigger than the Sound, bigger than Washington.

We drive over the Deception Pass bridge connecting
Whidbey Island to Fidalgo Island and we watch
the winter’s tidal flow move fast and rough

The Interim

A space, a square—
you rearrange my skin with one hand,
complicating the gesture while simplifying my frame.

A space, a square where time has been canceled,
stripped of its original function.
The interim?

we're breathing into each other—
our two bodies, spooning and forking.

i think of the math that enters this—
the air, the mattress,
of the geology contained in this moment—
earth’s crust, sound’s waves.

You explained to me
how my ovaries work
because I really didn’t know.
Described the egg release.
Drew me a picture
of tubes and pelvis,