You only use those legs to walk, but I
use them to carry me from A to Being
somewhere you are curled up on a bed,
to somewhere you are shaking off your jeans,
to somewhere you are sunning on a beach.
I need those legs to get me through each day
when traffic flows, the postie comes, the trees
surrender leaves, the phone submits to its
desertion and is filled with other voices:
as days without you stumble out of reach.
My heart sounds like your gumboots plashing through
mud puddles. Trample me. Go on, have fun!
Land on me with those legs, but as you do,
remember I will need them when you’re done.