After Caravaggio’s Narcissus, c. 1597–1599
strange time for a love poem but
i can’t stop wondering all the things i could do with my body-
chopping wood, drawing a curtain, swimming in the river again. i want
to be underwater with you. it’s like how the movie goes. the one without any words
the one where we’re leaping from rocks together, landing with a splash that sounds like a laugh.
i’m going to pretend for a second my arms are long enough to reach across the world
i’m keeping my fear in an old jar stowed in the back of the fridge
pretend it’s something homemade and sweet.
mythic obsession, breathing my air against the cold weather insects landing on my arms
you’re so cleopatra, so narcissus, so puck
i can still tell you the song that makes me want to climb onto the roof of any car
and dance in the street.
last week i noticed all my veins humming so softly, i could barely hear them until i got outside
i find myself evaporating every night, and in the morning
flower like one and a half people
staring at a reflection in a pool
not of me
Featured image held in the public domain via Wikimedia.