s u t u r e s

it is her spring again the plane

lands but you remain in her freefall

the pull strong enough to rupture

the clotted seams at your joints

you fled east as an assemblage

of limbs with a penchant

for rejecting autonomy

with compulsory sutures

your shaking fingers falling

into familiar rhythms of

your splitting & their stitching

a body > a person > a body > a person

in eastern winters, your body was

made and unmade by the

vertigo of once having been just

an action to be committed by another

in her springs, your unbecoming

was reasoned by her desire to know

what became of a person thrown

out her field of force and you

answered by ripping into a body

after all, that spring you said she could.

after all, you said she should.