Happy threat
There’d been
loose injuries in the night, you prying me apart
in my sleep.
Nothing we do is dangerous, you
complained,
and I thought
of the inconvenient girls you’d invited
to the
party, how beautiful they were, like bars of expensive
soap. The
happy threat of extinction led me to love you
even more,
the way someone jealous might tip over a stool
to trip a
person on their way to the object of envy.
I am reeling
from instances like that, the ones where I care
too much to
throw in any evidence of a flag.
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