For full text of poem:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Z12sBsTSUj6MHomOqDLxLXSaXAlxVKm4ZXrDQUqFlqE/edit?usp=sharing
The Solution of Another
it's only after a few years
of living in an isolation cell
that i recognize the rigidity
of the order
i've established inside myself
the reflection of myself is surprising
that i must care to fluff the pillows
and pick up almost everything
but leave it messy enough
he doesn't think
i'm a perfectionistic clean freak
everything has had to be just so
in my domain
as everything outside my control
is just so awful
i never thought i'd be her
wound so tight
i always looked pitifully on others
who held the reins of their lives
so high up and tight
there was never any chance
their path could meander or stray
from the straight line directly in front of them
i used to feel sorry
for their mistaking
that level of influence
as having any bearing
on the wider world
but now i can feel the inflexibility
of my own mind
tidying up
and it's a feeling like when
a syrup starts to crystallize
and what was moving starts to harden
and its motion is slow and stiffened
still sweet but it sticks to itself
so i see where i've become this way
as a new experience of a man
appears in my isolation cell
and as i try to defend against
the crazies and the schmucks
i see their parts
a crazy arm or
a schmucky leg
in my peripheral
is caught attached to my own body
and so i hear
“ it's coming from inside the house”
ew
the nicest part of having him here
hands down
and still off each other at that point
was just the long safe loving look
in his eyes
an affirmation of intended kindness
so that we can take murderer off the table as a possibility
that's a nice start for romance
and those spacious 3 or 4 seconds
maybe two blinks
were so tender and reassuring
that my heart could see his heart
coming from the back of those dark brown eyes
after that
he leaned in to kiss me
and from there
it was slightly downhill
the choreography was choppy
and he bumbled
but i didn't ask him to stop
from his respectfully restrained state earlier
he was a bit like a boy at a feast
eyes wide and unable to decide
if he wanted a taste from here or there
his hands already occupied and yet
he wants another fistful from a different dish
but all this is forgiven
and my soft short almost imperceptible sighs of enjoyment
did not impart my small disappointment
at the gently lurching pace of the dance
the fact he's a wrestler
and unafraid to show a scrappy throwdown side
must be what has made his arms so strong
his hug like an iron band around a barrel
and i see this wily part of myself
grappling for position
quietly taking my place on top
to pin him down beneath me
where he's below my level
and he can't hurt me there
but in truth
he could kick my ass
and get out of any hold i tried
an octopus of a man
with a disdain for any authority placed over him
and a will to overc
