Savasana

Could it be, that now, you pour
out of me? It took someone asking
where you were,
she was so sorry,
we had been together a long time
how am I? In a circle of yoga mats
and women balancing only on hands -
I'm afraid the pressure would suffocate
my heart.

I sweat out of myself, a lunge
to remind my kneecaps we are not Atlas
if I don't surrender to myself I will crack,
the next cobra a hairline fracture
I'm made of concrete in 115 degrees
expanding, all it takes is one om

I can't tell if I'm coming home
or lowering a spade into my grave
the heart is soft, a few inches deep
home was never safe

seeing you pack your life into a hefty bag
kept me speechless. I was the kind
of mess that needed sorting
through before touching,
four years felt like home coming.

I wore a tiara, you - a cape,
we pretended to be enchanted,
dayless and naked, forgiving every
inherited way of hurting ourselves,
hungry children not ready to cook.

Arched over a bolster, hands stretching
away from body, heels, sacrum,
spine melted into earth,

only a breath

breaks the dam.
You flood the cities of my organs
and rolling hills of skin,
memory the pinch of salt
warning do not drink -
but swim.