I’ll practice Marinelli bends for you
be your blind contortionist
after all, I’m nothing if not flexible

I compress before you
and words swirl around me
relax; they’re not part of you
they’re failing words, gone astray
ambiguous stories desperate for definition

you’re loosely fastened where I am
lithe and malleable
fluid and mute
you touch but never hear
a future that quietly listens

listen
something will happen
but it’s not what you dread or imagine

petals cling to your whispering lips
and still I contort my body