I dance better than I speak.

My still lips are more eloquent
     than my polite conversation.

     In the dark movie theater
     our knees touch skin
     to skin on a summer day.

     Asleep in fall rain
     our hands find each other
     atop the covers.

     Without you on a winter
     street my arms instinctively
     reach out for a stranger.

     I miss you with my body
     muscles straining against
     the weight I carry.

I miss you with my body
     baking in the noontime heat attracting
     predators who dare not draw too near.

I miss you with my body
     blood moving through flesh
     hair shimmering in sunlight.

     You ask Do you love me
     and I reply with cartwheels
     in freshly mown grass.

     Yes but do you love me
     you say and I slap
     my chest until it blooms.

     Yes but do you…
     and you stop before I bite off
     a digit and offer it to you.

   (First published in Tree House Arts, 2018 )