Joshua Garcia | Poetry

What to make for dinner, the book I’m reading, 
a podcast with Esther Perel—how to stay alive in the face of adversity. 
This? Me on top, him tracing my borders.
I imagine a warmth billowing in to make new shapes 
from the pieces we’ve been given. Slow, he says, touching me.
I look out the window. His hips lift under me like a fog. 
Hooves trod over the still-damp earth, & my mind wanders
through the cornflower out back, blue & wild. 
Eros reshapes us: the self falling, resistance failing. 
My little villages ablaze. I roll his pulse in my palm 
like a foreign language. Steam rises from the mountains after a rain.   
I begin to open like an envelope delivered between camps.