in my adult body

between us touching
little fingers grazing
lightly, I've noticed lately
the sentence between us

in my adult body:

the lower abdominals
the way they slither down to the pubic hairs' end
the small bunch of skin that gathers above
the crease the bra indents on the back
the boney, veiny, slender feet
the hair
the way it grows out
the way the shape of the face changes
as it grows out
and its shape
the first tattoo bleeding to illegibility
of the blackened ankle skin


we continue to look at ourselves
the body changing/changed


something behind all things
that makes it flat, the three-dimensional
crowded forward the optical illusion illusioned

the world infinite bc
only living things can die
only endings can end.

we become small scale duties

----I clean the kitchen after every meal

the nervous habits accrued
----my back is beginning to curve
----up top the vertebrae clicking each
----time, everytime I get a chance
----I remember
----I, still, want straight(er) posture

we are the impossible sentences we compose
that we then must abandon
alright, the spoken speech is inexplicit

I asked you if I could rest on your lap
but didn't