I don't want to see your eyes or your faces
I want to hear your voices, to gaze at your elbows. There are only so many ways to do anything. I want, I want, I want, I don't know how not to. It comes in waves, rolling like a car over a speed bump. There is no body there except the body, except your bodies, folded over each other like paper. Like dollar bills wadded in my pocket. Like brows furrowed. Like trees' roots always searching for nitrogen, or each other.
A response to the National Poetry Month prompt