Take my hand and squeeze real hard, sister.
This is how we share the cowardice of flesh:
When we grind, like a pepper mill, our mutual selves
Over this crushing of small bones beneath our skin.
Now rewind the movie, and press that start button one more time.
.
.
And don’t let me miss a single shot, I want to remember:
How where holes appear, you tend and bind, and make us stand,
four life-size leaden dolls.
You count familiar feet while shoulders drop, then start that luring song
That makes us follow you deep into the night.
.
.
I wonder about your endless homesickness, firstborn
As we walk through that mirror, so much harder than before.
We push down our legs, now heavy without a thought.
Yet I don’t want to stop; you promised to break me first.
Or else how will I know whose screams I am hearing?
.
.