Perfect Lover

You are not that.

 

It would be best to set it aside.

Make room on the nightstand--

 

Which was the floor

And could be again

 

--For a mason jar large enough

To hold six half lemons

Floating 

But also sinking

Like bright yellow jellyfish

In a makeshift aquarium

Next to a single mattress

Which until that night

Knew nothing of your twinned weight

But welcomed you all the same.

 

You discovered--

 

And had before

And would again

 

--That your hands your hopes

Your fears your intuition

Are neither wrong nor perfect.

 

Your moves--

 

If you can call them that

Without laughing

Or while laughing

Because that's a move.

Another one being

The fingers of a large hand

Coming together

Around a forearm

Or ankle or stomach

Then letting go

And then letting go.

The release as captivating

As the capture

 

--Are traces of a lover

Who understood 

Or came to understand--

 

While drinking in the night

Sharing the bedside well

 

--That the offering of water

Was also your lover.