We began by playing Russian Roulette with our teeth instead of with bullets.
Our bodies are syllables that have to be strung together like pebbles
in order to form words:
“undress” used to be my favorite one,
until I learned your name.
In high school my father ran over 23 deer in our old beat-up Volvo
on his way to work, but never stopped
to bury a single one. He told me, years later, that their eyes
glowed like burning coals and he felt responsible
for putting all those fires out.
We hurt the things we love
so they won’t have the power to hurt us instead.
But sometimes my body is a building made of storm-proof glass
and all I want is for you to break down the walls
and save me.