The Bowl

"Your stomach is a bowl of love. I can smell the sea of skin rising in the room – I’m afraid I’ll drown. Breathing in, and out, your belly swells and my heart explodes inside, splatters all over your walls.

A tidal wave of love – can I dip my finger in? You slap my hand like that of a child’s and I squeal in delighted terror. But when you pretend not to look, I blow hot air and dry those dew drops off your skin.

A bowl flood – is that love rising? Sometimes when you sleep with your mouth open I can see it crying out, overflowing the corners of your mouth. Your pillow is soaking wet. But then I sleep on it, wash my brain inside out during the night.

I wake up lightheaded - are you gone? You gobbled up my dreams but left your chewed-up heart inside my swelling belly.

I can't spit it out - a stomach gurgle is all I can remember."