he only loved me when I was on my knees
and he loved me so much
that he put down pillows for me
and held my hair back
and sometimes, if my mouth was tired
he loved me enough
to turn me over like a coin
and taste sweet metal
in the heat of my hips
I heard the whispered
I love yous
in the quiver of his knees
in the next morning’s soreness
in the back of my throat when I spoke to my mother
he never loved me on my feet
because feet make for running
and for dancing
and we could never get the steps just right
and when a man can look you in the eyes
you no longer need an open mouth
as a bargain
I learned from my father
that a cold heart works the best
when all the blood is somewhere else
and that it’s a woman’s job
to make a man still with passion
because the waves are calling, darling
but your body is the anchor
your throat a canal
your hands, darling, your hands
are the perfect size to block
the sun in my eyes
I imagine the thrusts of his hips
to be peaks of a seismic wave
the ground shaking from his love for me
his love for me,
like the shifting tectonic plates
the things under our skin
that make our faces ugly when we cry
and I love him because treats me
like a disaster
and I believe him when he says
its natural
don’t stop, he tells me,
with his earthquake heart
I won’t stop running into walls for him
so he has bruises on my face to kiss
I won’t stop until I can’t remember
what my mouth used to be capable of
don’t stop, he tells me,
and he shakes with love
he must love me so much
so much that he can’t touch me anymore
because he’s tired
and his earthquake heart is faulty

I no longer wonder
why he couldn't tell me
that he loved me
at a bus stop
when my mouth was closed
and I was throwing myself at his feet
trying to make
his ground
shake