For 2 weeks, you move into my little house, a trial
we fight a little about your other lovers

quietly walk to visit Cletus, the neighbor’s calf
who rejects our apple and gnaws desperate at the fence post—pica

we worry for the country,
a flurry of horrors

make luxurious food stamp meals
curried legumes, caramelized alliums

it snows twice, the first real snow in 7 years
big slow fluttering like down from the torn comforter

when it’s 17 degrees outside, we wake up shaking, the furnace broken
clean the house for hours so my landlord can casually stare at the blank thermostat

heat rises to the sunny loft
so we spend most days all day in bed

hungry for you,
i savor waiting for your hunger

laughing at dumb puns
and smelling each other’s collarbones (bookstore, musk, cilantro, garlic)

when the president’s order says i don’t exist,
i obediently disappear for a while

we doze through days without showering,
days in the same unemployed, torn clothes

each night, your fingers practice bass on my back
as you fall asleep, unknowing

you are easy to love,
you know, you whose hands have made a habit of me

you make me forget my country

tell me, my love, what sounds do my shoulder blades dream for you?
what chords do you call forth from my body— grinning, still