lovers’ lane

Lucien

i’ve never got this / close to a beating heart / like yours. / it has been through / the same

places / for & with us. / our kid is breathing / in syncopation / with the passage of time &

rain, / the definition of a bastard / growing in your stomach, / a demigod to us. / i never

should have been this close to a beating heart. / i never should have had the sun leave our lips / a few shades darker than your stomach / every time we dangled our legs closer to the sky for fun. / i never should have thought the gods mouthed a thesaurus for hope, / turning our bodies into a confessional, / our locked together palms afraid of praying / for borrowed time / we cannot afford to serve. / forgive me for the mythless nights / who treated our love like a carpal tunnel, / light at both nerve endings. / forgive me for how they thought our love

language was romanticised graffiti on a new york sidewalk, / forgotten into a myth / of two

hearts beating in sync as a metaphor for our replacement. / we breathed our lives apart / to

give our son space. / i wish you could tell / when our child grows / faster than your stomach. / i wish we could tell / how to speak without thinking / for others. / i’ve never got this close to a beating heart, / so let me feel clumsy / from god / for just a lifetime longer.