Quivering

You quiver
On the precipice of possibility
Together
On a jagged rock
Humming above the engine of your old Jeep
That leaks oil
Like I leak love

Us
Against each other
So hot
That you sleep in the other room
You wonder if it’s a dealbreaker
And I think it’s a sign

We are heat, I say.
It’s why we spark like that.

You’re so tough
When you realize you’re softening
And I am scared
To melt myself against you

I promise I won’t smother you

You kiss me
Over and over
Slowly
But only before a door closes
Like two sticks rubbed together
Until there is warmth
Until there is love
Until there is the impossible
That we could shelter under

And then you go
Somewhere, anywhere
But here
Because
It hurts to thaw

Like two kids
Pulling each other’s hair
Scuffed white sneakers
Tee shirts sticky, sour and sweet
Chasing after little boy test missions
Lobbing paper planes into the air
That circle to the ground

Noses dusted
Wide-eyed
Shrieking
Running
To find them
Unbroken

So stuck on seeking
It hurts to be found

I am in front of you
Quiet
Under my skin
My back
Cold and empty
Waiting for your hand
To pull me into you
To brush us off
To fall into flight
Again.

I like how small my fingers feel between yours,
How it hurts my
Knuckles—stretched,
Splayed.

I wonder if it’s a dealbreaker
And I hope that you think it’s a sign—
That ice could become
The sweat between us,
The wide-eyed breeze that lifts us into each other,
The air we gasp and dance.

To feel that anything
Could be possible
Together
Quivering.

It hurts to hold on
To what wants to melt.