You occupy my body quietly
leashed to the stack of my bones
and despite my roundness
I keep forgetting about you
the same way I forget my memories
burrowed and still
it’s in the bath
where we connect
every evening
as the mud on my tongue
slides down into the rest of me
and I flee the heavy tilt
of smells and spin
by floating with you
in the slippery warmth
hello
I say
and I imagine you
scuttling up
towards the roof
of my ribs
like a fish
in a bowl
who sees he is about
to be fed
I tell you all sorts of things
like how we live on a lake
and that your dad works very hard
to make us laugh
and sorry about all
the salt and vinegar chips
but I’m hoping
it’s just a phase
I listen hard
just in case you slip
a secret through the maze
of our togetherness
and tonight you did
a flutter in the crowd
of my own thoughts
I know it was you
because my voice
is never so brave
please
you said
clear as a rain drop
a patient word
an echo of vulnerability
that shook me
with the strength
of its truth.